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No. 705 Hector JHalot 50 Cents 

Entered at the Post-Office at New York, as Second-class Mail Matter. Issued Monthly. Subscription Price per Year, 12 Nos., $5.00. 


ROMAIN KALBRIS 


^ Kciod 


By hector MALOT 

Translated by 

MARY J, SRRRANO 



NEW YOKE 

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS 

August, 1891 


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D 


ROMAIN KALBRIS 


THE ADVENTURES OF 

A RUNAWAY BY LAND AND SEA 


_By HECTOR MALOT 


Translated by 
MARY J. SERRANO 



NEW YORK 

HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS 
1891 



Copyright, 1891, by Haiiper & Beotiirrs. 





EOMAIN KALBRIS. 

I. 

It must not be supposed from the position I now 
occupy that I had Fortune for a fairy godmother ; my 
ancestors, if the word be not too pretentious, were fish- 
ermen ; my father was the youngest of eleven children, 
and my grandfather had a hard struggle to bring up 
his family, for in his occupation, less than in any other, 
is the reward proportioned to the labor ; danger and 
toil are to be counted upon with certainty, while of the 
slender profits to be gained there is but a chance. 

At eighteen my father was drawn in the maritime 
conscription. This is a species of conscription by 
means of which the State may obtain the services of 
seamen at some time between the ages of eighteen and 
fifty — a period of thirty-two years. When he left his 
native village he could neither read nor write; he came 
back first-mate, which is the highest grade that any one 
can attain who has not passed through the Government 
schools. 

Port Dieu, our native place, being near the Channel 
Islands, the Government keeps a gunboat stationed 
there for the double purpose of preventing the inhabit- 
ants of Jersey from fishing in our waters and of com- 
1 


2 


KOMAIN KALBKIS. 


pelling our own fishermen to observe the laws ; it was 
on board this gunboat that my father was sent to com- 
plete his period of service. This was a favor, for, 
however accustomed a sailor may be to regard his ship 
as his home, it is always a happiness to return to one’s 
native land. 

Fifteen months after his return I came into the 
world, and as I was born in the month of March and 
on a Friday, when there was a new moon, every one 
predicted that I should lead an adventurous life, that I 
should make many voyages by sea, and that I should 
be very unfortunate, unless the iufiuence of the Friday 
were counteracted by that of the new moon. Ad- 
ventures I have had in plenty, and these are what I 
am now going to relate to you; journeys by sea I 
have made; as for the struggle between the two op- 
posing infiuences, it has been fierce ; at the end of my 
story you will decide which of them it was that finally 
prevailed. 

To predict adventures and voyages for me was as 
much as to say that I was a true descendant of my an- 
cestors, for from father to son all the Kalbris had fol- 
lowed the sea. If tradition speak truly, they had done 
so ever since the time of the Trojan war. This origin, 
be it understood, is not claimed for us by ourselves, 
but by the savcmts^ who say that there are some hun- 
dred families in Port Dieu, among the seafaring part 
of the population, who are the descendants of a Phoe- 
nician colony. What is certain is that, with our black 
eyes, dark complexions, and regular profiles, we bear 
no resemblance to the Norman or Breton type, and 
that the boat we use in fishing is an exact reproduc- 


KOMAIN KALBKIS. 


3 


tion of the vessel of Ulysses as it is described by Ho- 
mer — a single-master with a square sail ; this rigging, 
common enough in the Archipelago, is unique in the 
Channel. 

As for us Kalbris, our recollections do not extend so 
far back, and their very monotony serves to render 
them somewhat vague ; the history of any one member 
of the family differed little from that of every other 
member — he had gone to sea when a boy, or travelled 
in distant lands among peoples whose names are difB- 
cult to remember, and he had been lost at sea or had 
died in battle or on the English pontoons. Crosses 
bearing the names of daughters or widows of sailors 
were numerous in the cemeteries; those bearing the 
names of boys or men were rare— these did not die at 
home. Like all families, however, we had our heroes ; 
one of these was my maternal grandfather, who had 
been the companion of Sourcouf ; the other was my 
granduncle Flohy. As soon as I was old enough to 
take notice of the talk of those around me,' I heard his 
name mentioned a dozen times a day ; he had entered 
the service of an Indian potentate who owned ele- 
phants ; he commanded a body of soldiers who fought 
against the English, and he had a silver arm ; elephants 
and a silver arm, these were not imaginary. 

It was the innate love of adventure, innate in all the 
Kalbris, which made my father undertake another voy- 
age, a few years after his marriage; he might have 
commanded, as second lieutenant, one of the schooners 
which leave Port Dieu every spring for the Iceland 
fisheries ; but he had accustomed himself to the service 
of the State and he loved it. 


4 


KOMAm EA.LBRIS. 


I do not remember his departure. My only recol- 
lections of this period are of stormy days, tempestuous 
nights, and hours spent in waiting for letters outside 
the post-office door. 

How many times, at night, did my mother make me 
kneel down to pray before a lighted taper! For a 
storm at Port Dieu meant, for us, a storm everywhere, 
and we thought the wind that shook our house must 
also shake my father’s vessel. Sometimes it roared 
so loud at night that we had to get up to secure the 
windows, for our house was the house of poor people ; 
although it was sheltered on one side by a ledge of 
the clijff and on the other by a cabin which had once 
been the saloon of a wrecked three-master, it could ill 
resist the violence of the equinoctial storms. One Oc- 
tober night my mother wakened me from my sleep to 
pray ; the hurricane was terrific, the wind howled, the 
timbers of the house creaked, and gusts blew from 
time to time down the chimney which made the fiame 
of the candle fiicker, until a gust fiercer than the others 
at last blew it out. In the lulls of the storm the sea 
could be heard dashing against the shore and forcing 
its way into the hollows of the cliff with a sound like 
the report of a gun. Notwithstanding the dreadful 
noise, before long I had fallen fast asleep upon my 
knees, when suddenly the window was torn from its 
fastenings, dashed into a thousand pieces on the floor 
of the room, and I thought I was being carried off in 
a whirlwind. 

^^Ah, my God!” cried my mother; ‘^your father is 
lost !” 

She believed in presentiments and in miraculous 


ROMAIN KALBKIS. 


5 


warnings ; a letter which she received from my father 
some months after the night on which this storm oc- 
curred strengthened her superstitious belief ; by a cu- 
rious coincidence his vessel had been assailed in the 
month of October by a whirlwind, and had been for a 
time in great danger. The sleep of a sailor’s wife is an 
uneasy sleep; to dream of shipwrecks, to wait for a 
letter which does not come — between these two tort- 
ures her life is passed. 

At the time of which I speak postal service was not 
conducted as it is now ; letters were distributed only 
at the post-office, and when any one delayed long in 
coming to claim a letter addressed to him it was sent to 
his house by one of the school-boys. The day on which 
letters arrived from Newfoundland the post-office was 
besieged, for from spring until autumn all the fisher- 
men are engaged in the cod-fishery, and a stranger ar- 
riving in the village might fancy himself in the island 
spoken of by Ariosto, from which men were excluded ; 
consequently the women were eager to receive news of 
the absent. With their infants in their arms they stood 
waiting for the names to be called. Some of them 
smiled as they read their letters ; others wept. Those 
who had not received letters questioned those who had. 
It is not when sailors are at sea that it can be said with 
truth, “No news is good newsv” 

There was an old woman who had gone to the post- 
office every day for six years, and who, during all that 
time, had received no letter ; she was called “ Mother 
Jouan.” The boat manned by her husband and her 
four sons had been lost in a squall, and neither the 
bodies of the men nor the boat had ever been recovered. 


6 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


Since the news of the catastrophe had been brought to 
the village, she had gone every morning to the post- 
office. There is nothing yet for you,” the postmas- 
ter would say; ^‘it will come to-morrow.” Yes, to- 
morrow,” she would answer sadly, and she would go 
away to return again on the following day. They said 
she had lost her mind ; if she were indeed mad, I have 
never seen madness as gentle and melancholy as hers. 

When I went to the post-office I almost always found 
her there before me. As the postmaster was also the 
village grocer, he naturally attended first to those who 
desired to buy salt or coffee, and thus we had plenty 
of time for chat. Methodical and exact in the practice 
of both his callings, he delayed us still more by all sorts 
of preliminary ceremonies. While engaged in the ex- 
ercise of his duties as grocer he wore a blue apron and 
a peaked cap; as postmaster he wore a cloth jacket 
and a velvet toque. Nothing in the world would have 
induced him to weigh out mustard for a customer with 
his toque on his head ; and knowing he held a letter in 
his hand on which the lives of a dozen men depended, 
he would not have delivered it without first taking off 
his apron. 

Every morning Mother Jouan repeated her story to 
me : “They went out fishing; a squall came up so that 
they were obliged to scUd before the wind instead of 
rejoining the Bien Aime ; they passed the Prudence 
without being able to speak her. But you know that 
with a sailor like Jouan there could have been no 
danger. They must have fallen in with some vessel out 
at sea and been taken on board ; that often happens ; 
that is how Melanie’s boy came home. They have 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


7 


landed them in America, perhaps. When they come 
back how tall Jerome will be I He was fourteen. Four- 
teen years and six years — how many does that make 
Twenty years.” 

Twenty years ! Why, he will be a man.” 

She would never admit that they had been lost. She 
died, believing to the last that they were still alive. A 
few days before her death she intrusted three louis to 
the priest to deliver to Jerome on his return ; amid 
all her own struggles and privations she had kept them 
for her youngest born. 


IL 

My father was to remain away three years; he re- 
mained six. The officers of the vessel were changed in 
turn, but the entire crew remained cruising in the Pa- 
cific until the frigate threatened to go to pieces. . 

I was ten years old at the time of his return. 

It was on a Sunday, just after high mass. I was on the 
jetty waiting to see the revenue-cutter entering the har- 
bor. Beside the man at the helm stood a national ma- 
rine ; he was all the more noticeable as he was in holi- 
day dress, while the coast-guards were in their working 
clothes. As usual before the coming in of the tide, the 
jetty was crowded with old sailors, who, no matter what 
the weather, assembled there every day two hours be- 
fore high tide, to remain there for two hours after. 

“ Komain,” said Captain Houel to me, lowering his 
spy-glass, that is your father. Run to the quay if you 
wish to be there before him.” 


8 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


I was eager enough to run, but my knees seemed to 
bend under me. When I reached the quay the tender 
was alongside the wharf and my father had landed ; 
the people crowded around him, all shaking hands with 
him. They wanted to carry him ofi to the cafe to treat 
him to a mug of cider. 

“Wait until evening,’’ he responded; “I am long- 
ing to embrace my wife and my little lad.” 

“ Your lad ? See, there he is !” 

During the night the weather turned stormy, but no 
one in the house got up to light a candle. 

In his six years’ cruising my father had seen a great 
many things to talk about, and in me he always found 
a willing listener. Apparently impatient and harsh, 
he was in reality a most patient man, and he described 
to me with invariable good-humor, not those scenes and 
events which he himself remembered with most pleas- 
ure, but those which were most calculated to please my 
childish imagination. 

Among his stories there was one which I never tired 
of listening to, and which I asked him to tell me over 
and over again ; it was the story of my uncle Jean. 
While his ship was lying at anchor at Calcutta, my 
father had heard a General Flohy spoken of who was 
then on an embassy at the court of the English gov- 
ernor. They related wonderful stories about him. He 
was a Frenchman who had entered the service of the 
King of Berar as a volunteer ; in an engagement with 
the English he had, by a bold manoeuvre, saved the Ind- 
ian army from destruction, which exploit had earned 
for him the title of general ; in another battle a bullet 
had shattered one of his hands ; he had replaced it by 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


9 


a silver hand, and when he re-entered the capital, hold- 
ing the reins of his horse with the silver hand, the 
priests had prostrated themselves before him in adora- 
tion, saying that in one of their holy books it was writ- 
ten that the Kingdom of Berar was to reach the summit 
of its greatness when its armies should be commanded 
by a stranger coming from the West whom they would 
recognize by his silver hand. My father presented 
himself to this General Flohy and was received by him 
with open arms. During eight days my uncle treated 
him like a prince ; he wished to take him back with him 
to the capital, but the rules of the service were inexo- 
rable, and my father was obliged to remain at Calcutta. 

This story strongly impressed my imagination ; my 
uncle filled all my thoughts. I dreamed only of ele- 
phants and palanquins ; I saw continually in fancy the 
two soldiers who accompanied him, carrying his silver 
hand — previous to this I had cherished no little admi- 
ration for the beadle of our church, but the two soldiers, 
who were my uncle’s slaves, made me look with scorn 
on the iron halberd and laced hat of our beadle. 

My father was pleased at my enthusiasm ; it made 
my mother very unhappy, however, for with maternal 
clear-sightedness she saw the effect that these stories 
were producing upon me. 

All these things,” she said, will give him a taste 
for roving and a seafaring life.” 

Well, what then?” my father would answer; “he 
will only do as I did, and why not as his uncle has 
done?” 

Do as my uncle had done ! My poor father did not 
know what a fire he was kindling. 


10 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


My mother had always known that she must resign 
herself to the idea of my being a sailor, but she wished 
at least to smooth the path for my first steps in this 
hard career. She persuaded my father to leave the 
service of the Government ; when he should have the 
command of a vessel sailing for Iceland I could serve 
my apprenticeship under him. 

By this means she hoped to keep us on land during 
the winter, when the fishing-vessels return to lay up. 
But what avails human foresight or human calculation 
against the decrees of Fate ? 


III. 

My father returned home in August. In the month 
of September the weather, which had been uninterrupt- 
edly fine for three months, changed; there was a suc- 
cession of stormy as there had been a succession of 
calm days. Nothing was talked about but shipwrecks 
off our coasts — a steamer had been lost, with crew and 
freight, off Cape Blanchard ; several boats from Gran- 
ville had not been heard from, and it was said that the 
sea around Jersey was covered with wreckage. On 
land the roads were strewn with broken branches ; un- 
ripe apples, blown down by the wind, lay on the ground 
as thick as if they had been beaten down with a pole ; 
apple-trees had been uprooted or had had their trunks 
broken off in the middle, while the leaves hung from 
the branches, as brown and seared as if they had been 
scorched at a fire. 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


11 


Every one lived in a state of constant terror, for this 
was the time for the return of the Newfoundland 
fishermen. 

This condition of things had lasted for nearly three 
weeks, when all at once one evening there was a com- 
plete lull both on land and sea. I thought the storm 
was now over, but my father laughed at me when I 
asked him at supper if we should not go on the follow- 
ing day to take up the nets that had remained spread 
since the beginning of the tempestuous weather. 

“ To-morrow,” he said, there will he a more furious 
storm than ever from the west ; the sun set in a red 
fog, there are too many stars in the sky, the sea moans, 
the earth is warm. We shall see worse weather than 
any we have yet seen.” 

On the following day, accordingly, instead of going 
to the sea, we set ourselves to cart stones for the roof 
of the cabin. A wind had sprung up from the west at 
daybreak ; there was no sun, only a dirty sky, bright- 
ened here and there by long streaks of greenish light, 
and, although it was low -tide, there came from the 
distant sea a hollow, rumbling sound, like the roaring 
of a wild beast. 

Suddenly I saw my father, who was on the roof of 
the cabin, pause in his work, and I climbed up beside 
him to see what it was that had attracted his attention. 
Far away on the horizon could be descried a small, 
white speck. It was a ship. 

“Unless it is a disabled vessel,” he said, “they are 
bent on running on destruction.” 

For when the wind blows from the west it is impos- 
sible to effect a landing at Port Dieu. 


12 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


A sudden flash of light had showed us the ship, 
which disappeared from our sight almost immediately. 
Black clouds were accumulating thickly in the west ; 
they rose rapidly, confusedly, like clouds of smoke 
from a conflagration, from the extreme verge of the 
horizon. 

We went down to the village. People were already 
running towards the jetty, for every one knew that a 
vessel was in sight — that is to say, in danger. 

Far as the eye could reach the sea looked like a vast 
sheet of foam, of moving snow ; the tide came in more 
swiftly than usual with a rambling sound that, min- 
gling with the noise of the storm, was deafening; heavy 
clouds, driven along by the furious gale, shrouded the 
horizon. The vessel had increased in size; it was a 
brig, and was running almost under bare poles. 

^ See, they are hoisting her bunting,’^ said Captain 
Houel, who was looking through his spy-glass ; she 
belongs to the Leheu Brothers.” 

The Leheu Brothers were the richest ship-owners in 
our part of the country. 

“She is asking for a pilot.” | 

“Ah, yes, a pilot ; but how is one to get to her 

It was the pilot himself. Father Housard, who asked 
this question, and as all present were sailors, no one 
answered him ; they knew very well that he was right, 
and that it would be almost impossible to get to the brig. 
At the same instant we saw the elder of the Leheu 
brothers coming towards us from the village. He was 
evidently not prepared for so violent a wind, for scarcely 
had he turned the corner of the last house in the street 
when he was whirled about and thrown to the ground 


KOMAIN KALBKIS. 


13 


as if he had been a bundle of rags. But, in one way 
or another, staggering, spinning around, buffeting the 
wind as a swimmer buffets the waves, he at last reached 
the battery behind which we had taken shelter. He 
had lost his hat on the way without making any effort 
to recover it, and every one knew from this that he 
must be greatly disturbed, for he was noted for never 
losing anything. 

We learned in a moment that the brig belonged to 
him, that it had been built at Bayonne, was manned by 
a crew of Biscayans, and that this was its first voyage ; 
it was not insured. 

Twenty sous the ton if you succeed in reaching^ 
her,” said Mr. Leheu to Father Housard, pulling hiin 
by the jacket. 

“ To reach her it would first be necessary to be able 
to leave the harbor.” 

The waves dashed high above the jetty, the wind 
swept everything before it — the froth on the waves, 
the sea-weed, the sand on the parapet, the tiles on the 
watch-house, the torn clouds hanging low on the hori- 
zon, looking still blacker in contrast with the white- 
ness of the sea-foam. 

When the brig saw that the pilot was not putting off 
from shore, she put about in order to try to tack while 
waiting. 

To wait was certain destruction; to make for the 
harbor destruction more certain still. 

People kept running from the village ; at any other 
time it would have been an amusing spectacle to see 
the wind ^scattering them in every direction, lifting 
them from their feet and jostling them against one 


14 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


another ; some of the women threw themselves on the 
ground and tried to drag themselves along on their 
knees. 

Mr. Leheu did not cease to call out, Twenty sous 
the ton — forty sous !” He ran hither and thither dis- 
tractedly, and in a breath passed from entreaty to 
abuse. 

You are all alike — ready to go to sea when you are 
not needed ; in your beds when there is any danger.” 

No one answered ; they shook their heads or turned 
them aside. 

He grew exasperated. 

‘‘You are all good-for-nothings!” he cried. “A loss 
of three hundred thousand francs ! You are cowards 1” 

My father advanced from among the crowd. 

“ Give me a boat,” he said ; “ I will go.” 

“You are a brave man, Kalbris.” 

“ If Kalbris goes, I will go too,” said Father Housard. 

“ Twenty sous the ton — I will not go back on my 
word,” said Mr. Leheu. 

“Nothing,” said Father Housard ; “ it is not for you. 
But if I do not return and my old woman asks you for 
a couple of sous of a Sunday, do not refuse them to her.” 

“Kalbris,” said Mr. Leheu, “I will adopt your boy.” 

“ There is more than that to be thought of,” returned 
my father ; “ we must have Gosseaume’s boat.” 

This boat, which was called the St. John^ was famous 
all over the coast for carrying her sail well in all 
weathers. 

“ I will lend it,” said Gosseaume, yielding to the 
silent persuasion of the eyes fixed upon him ; “ but it 
is to Kalbris I lend it ; he must bring it back to me.” 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


15 


My father had taken me by the hand ; we ran towards 
the cove where the St John was drawn up on the 
beach ; in an instant it was rigged out with sail and 
rudder. 

Besides my father and the pilot, another man was 
needed. A cousin of ours offered himself ; they tried 
to dissuade him from going. 

Kalbris is not afraid to go,” he said. 

My father took me in his arms, and in a voice whose 
tones I still remember, 

“One can never tell what may happen,” he said, 
kissing me ; “ take this kiss to your mother for me.” 

To leave the harbor with the wind blowing towards 
the shore was the great difficulty. The men who were 
hauling at the cable of the St John made no progress 
in their task ; gusts would come suddenly which obliged 
them to loosen their hold upon the rope and scattered 
them about or flung them violently against one another. 
The end of the jetty was swept by the waves, but it 
was necessary to haul the St John outside this point to 
get her before the wind. The keeper of the light-house 
fastened a tow-line about his waist, and while those 
who were hauling the St John did their best to keep 
her in her place, he lowered himself down the parapet, 
and, holding on with both hands to the iron balustrade 
which protected it, propelled himself slowly forward. 
He did not expect, as you may well suppose, to launch 
by himself a boat which flfty men could scarcely haul, 
but only — and it was no easy task — to pass the cable 
around the brass pulley at the end of the jetty, so that 
the boat, flnding there a point of support, might move 
forward in response to the efforts of the men who were 


16 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


hauling her. Three times lie was drenched by the 
waves, but he was accustomed to these watery ava- 
lanches ; he stood firm against them, and at last suc- 
ceeded in making fast the tow-line. The /St. John 
again began to advance slowly, plunging so heavily in 
the waves that it seemed as if she must be swamped. 
Suddenly the cable moved freely ; it no longer offered 
any resistance to the force exerted upon it, and the St. 
John swung around the end of the jetty. 

I jumped on the glacis of the battery, and climbing 
up the signal-mast clung to it with hands and knees. 
It swayed and creaked under my weight as if it were 
still a living tree swaying to the breeze in its native 
forest. 

I could see my father standing at the helm; the 
other two men were close beside him, leaning, with 
their backs to the wind, against the side of the boat. 
The St. John advanced by leaps : now she stopped, now 
she bounded forward like a bullet ricochetting from 
wave to wave, now she disappeared from view, envel- 
oped in clouds of spray. 

The brig, when she perceived the boat, changed her 
course and steered straight for the light-house. As 
soon as the St. John was well in the wind, she, too, 
put about and steered so as to cross the brig. In a 
few minutes they met ; the boat passed under the bow- 
sprit of the larger vessel, and almost at the same instant 
swung around and the two vessels were made fast to 
each other. 

^‘The rope will not hold,” said some one in the 
crowd. ^^And even if it should hold, they will never 
be able to board the brig.” 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


17 


It seemed, in truth, impossible that the St John 
should be able to get close enough to the brig to allow 
of Father Housard’s boarding her — as if the St John 
must be dashed to pieces or Father Housard precipi- 
tated into the sea. Fastened to each other, impelled 
by the same wind, borne on the same wave, the ship 
and the boat came towards us. When the bowsprit 
plunged into the waves we could see the deck rising in 
the air, and the sailors, unable to keep their footing, 
clinging to the support nearest hand. 

Board her ! board her !” cried Leheu. 

Father Housard had already made three or four dif- 
ferent attempts to board the brig, but on each occasion 
the two vessels had been violently forced apart ; the 
boat, dashed to a distance of twenty or thirty yards — 
the length of the tow-line — now preceded, now followed 
the larger vessel, at the caprice of the waves. At last 
the brig gave a lurch towards the St John^ and when 
the wave sank, on the crest of which she had risen, the 
pilot was on her deck, clinging to the chain-wales. 

It seemed as if the wind had now conquered all op- 
position to its fury — levelling, demolishing, sweeping 
away everything before it. It blew above our heads 
and around us with irresistible force, giving us not a 
moment’s fest or respite in which to recover our breath. 
We had only one sensation, that of being pushed violent- 
ly along, always in the same direction ; we heard one 
sound to the exclusion of every other — a whistling which 
deafened our ears. Under the pressure of the wind 
the waves rose before they were fully formed, to sink 
down again in whirling eddies. The brig approached 
us with the swiftness of the hurricane itself, carrying 

2 


18 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


barely sail enough to steady her. Although the waves 
were not high, the vessel pitched and rolled so violently 
at times that it seemed as if she must go to pieces. In 
one of these shocks her top-sail was carried away, her 
sails were torn to ribbons, and having no steerageway 
she came broadside on; she was now within two or 
three hundred yards of the harbor. 

At this moment a cry was heard from the assembled 
crowd. 

The /St, John, on which my father and my cousin had 
remained, was a short distance from the brig ; in order 
to avoid a collision with the larger vessel, the boat stood 
out to sea. But at this instant a storm-jib was rigged 
on the brig ; the latter fell back in her course, cutting 
off the further progress of the boat, and hiding it com- 
pletely from our view with her black hulk. Two sec- 
onds afterwards she struck the channel. 

I had been observing the movements of the boat 
rather than those of the brig ; when I sought it with 
my gaze after the brig had entered the channel, it was 
no longer to be seen. Almost immediately afterwards, 
however, I perceived it outside the jetty ; embarrassed 
by the manoeuvre of the larger vessel it had missed the 
channel, which was somewhat narrow, and was making 
for a sort of cove to the right of the jetty, where the 
water in stormy weather was generally less rough than 
in the open sea. 

But on this day, there, as everywhere, far as the eye 
could reach, the sea was a sheet of foam, and to get the 
boat before the wind to run her into the cove seemed 
little less than an impossibility. The sail was taken 
in, the anchor cast, and the boat presented her bow to 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


19 


the waves that dashed against her from the offing. Be- 
tween the boat and the coast rose a line of rocks which 
would not be covered with water for an hour to come. 
Would the anchor hold ? W ould the rope cut ? Could 
the St. John ride the billows in safety ? 

I was only a child, but I knew enough of all that 
pertains to the sea to appreciate fully the terrible sus- 
pense of those moments of waiting. I heard, too, the 
remarks of those around me, for w^e had all hurried to 
the beach, where we stood grouped together for protec- 
tion against the fury of the wind, 

“ If they hold on their course they may run aground ; 
if the St. John comes into the open sea she will be 
dashed to pieces.” 

“ Kalbris is a strong swimmer.” 

“A strong swimmer ! As if any one could swim in 
such a sea as that !” 

Even a board would have been ingulfed in those 
whirlpools of mingled sea-weed, pebbles, and froth 
which rushed upon the beach, working it into holes. 
The waves, repulsed by the rocks, fell back in foam to 
meet the waves coming from the open sea, and thus 
hemmed in, climbed one upon another and broke in 
clouds of spray. 

As I was standing gazing breathlessly at the St. John^ 
I felt my arm seized from behind. I turned round ; 
it was my mother, who had run to me distractedly; 
she had witnessed all from the summit of the cliff. 

Captain Houel and some of the others present 
gathered around us, trying to reassure us. My poor 
mother, her eyes fixed on the offing, answered not a 
word. 


20 


ROMAIN KALBRI8. 


Suddenly a cry rose loud above the noise of the storm : 

The anchor has given way !” 

My mother dropped on her knees, dragging me with 
her. 

When I raised my eyes again, I saw the JoAn 
coming towards us on the crest of a gigantic wave. 
Lifted up and borne along by it, it passed the rocky 
barrier ; but the wave fell, the boat stood on her beam 
ends, whirled swiftly around, and then nothing was to 
be seen but a sheet of white foam. 

It was not until two days afterwards that they recov- 
ered my father’s body, horribly mangled ; my cousin’s 
body was never recovered. 


IV. 

For six years my father’s place at the head of the 
table had been vacant, but it was not the dreadful and 
gloomy void which followed this catastrophe. 

His death did not reduce us to absolute want, for we 
had our house and a piece of ground, but my mother 
was now obliged to work for our maintenance. 

She had formerly been the best laundress in the 
country, and as the Port Dieu cap is one of the pret- 
tiest head-dresses on the coast, she soon found cus- 
tomers again. 

The Messieurs Leheu thought it their duty to come 
to our assistance. 

My brother will take you once a fortnight,” said 
the elder of the two to my mother, and I will take 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


21 


you once a fortnight, also ; one day secure in every 
week is something.” 

And this was all. It was not a great price to pay for 
a man’s life. 

The length of the working-day, at the time of which 
I speak, was regulated by the sun ; I had then, in the 
morning and in the evening, before and after school, 
some hours during which, in my mother’s absence, I was 
free to do as I liked. 

What I liked best to do was to loiter on the jetty or 
on the beach, according as it was high or low tide. All 
my poor mother’s efforts to keep me at home were of 
no avail. I had always some excuse ready to get away 
or to account for my absences, fortunate when I had not 
to invent one for playing truant — that is to say, when 
the ships were delayed in their return from Newfound- 
land, when there was neither a high-tide nor squally 
weather. 

It was on one of these days when there was a high- 
tide, and I was playing truant, that an event occurred 
which exercised an important influence on my charac- 
ter and decided my fate in life. 

We were at the end of September, and the outgoing 
tide on Friday would leave some rocks uncovered that 
I had not seen for a long time. On Friday morning, 
then, instead of going to school I ran off to the cliff, 
where, while waiting for the tide to go out, I sat down 
to eat my breakfast ; I had more than two hours to 
wait. 

The tide was coming in like an inundation, and if I 
removed my gaze from a rock for an instant when I 
turned to look for it again it had disappeared under the 


22 


DOMAIN KALBEIS. 


surface of the water, which rose so silently and swiftly 
that one might fancy it was the rock itself that had 
sunk into the depths of the ocean. Not a wave was to 
be seen, only a line of foam between the blue sea and 
the yellow sand ; in the distance, where sky and ocean 
met, the gaze lost itself in the gray depths of space. Dis*- 
tant objects could be seen with unusual clearness ; from 
the cliff Cape Yauchel and Point d’Aval were visible 
— a thing which happens only when some great change 
in the weather is at hand. 

The sea, to my impatient eyes, remained for a long 
time apparently motionless, then it began to retire with 
the same swiftness with which it had come in. I fol- 
lowed the receding tide ; I had hidden my basket and 
my in the hollow of a rock, and I walked bare- 

footed along the sand, in which my footprints quickly 
filled with water. 

Our beach is in general sandy, but here and there 
groups of rocks are to be met with which the sea, in 
its work of erosion, has not yet worn away, and w^hich 
form, at low-tide, blackish islets. I was on one of these 
islets hunting for crabs among the sea- weed when I 
heard myself called. 

When one knows one is doing wrong, one is not apt 
to be very brave ; for an instant I was frightened, but 
on raising my eyes I saw that I had no cause for alarm, 
for the person who had called to me was certainly not 
going to send me back to school ; it was an old gentleman 
with a white beard whom we called in the village “Mr. 
Sunday,’’ because he had a servant whom he called 
“ Saturday.” His real name was De Bihorel, and he 
lived on a little island a quarter of an hour’s journey 


EOMAIN KALBEIS. 


23 


from Port Dieu. This island had formerly been an 
isthmus, but he had had the granite causeway which 
connected it with the land cut through, and had trans- 
formed it into a real island which at high-tide was wash- 
ed on all sides by the sea. He had the reputation of 
being the most eccentric person within a circuit of 
twenty leagues ; a reputation which he owed to an im- 
mense umbrella that he always carried open, to the ab- 
solute solitude in which he lived, and, more than either, 
to his manner — a mixture of harshness and kindness — 
in dealing with the country people. 

I Hey, boy !” he. cried ; “ what are you doing there P 

, I am hunting for crabs, as you see.” 

“ Well, leave your crabs and come with me ; carry my 
net and you will not repent it.” 

I did not answer, but my face spoke for me. 

“Ah, ah! you don’t want to do as I ask you?” 

u j 5? 

“ Stop ; I am going to tell you why you do not want 
to do so — but first, what is your name ?” 

“ Eomain Kalbris.” 

“You are the son of the Kalbris who lost his life to 
save a brig last year? Your father was a man !” 

I was proud of my father ; these words made me re- 
gard Mr. De Bihorel with less suspicion than before. 

“ You are nine years old,” he continued, placing his 
hand on my head and looking into my eyes with a 
piercing gaze ; “ to-day is Friday ; it is noon, and you 
are playing truant.” 

I looked down and blushed. 

“ You are playing truant,” he resumed, “ that is not 
difficult to guess ; now I am going to tell you why you 


24 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


are doing so. Do not tremble, foolish child, I am not 
a sorcerer. Come, look at me ! You want to take ad- 
vantage of the tide in order to fish 

Yes, sir, and to see the Dog’s Head.” 

The Dog’s Head is a rock which is rarely left un- 
covered by the tide. 

Well, I, too, am going to the Dog’s Head ; take my 
net and come with me.” 

I went with him without a word ; I was astounded 
that he should have read me so easily. Although I 
knew him very well by sight we had never before ex- 
changed so many words, and I did not know that it was 
a sort of hobby with him to study the secret motives 
of the actions of those around him. Great shrewdness 
and much knowledge of human nature frequently en- 
abled him to guess these motives aright, and as he 
feared no one he always gave free expression to his 
opinion, whether fiattering to his hearers or otherwise. 

Although I had little inclination for it, I could do 
no less than reply to the questions which he put to me 
without intermission. I had not been in his company 
a quarter of an hour before he knew all that I could 
tell him about myself, my father, my mother, and my 
other relations. What I told him of my uncle, the 
East-Indian, seemed to interest him. 

Inquisitive,” he said, as if he were thinking aloud, 
‘‘of an adventurous spirit — a mixture of Norman and 
Phoenician. What is the origin of Oalbris, or Kalbris ?” 

His questions, however, did not prevent him from 
examining the coast as we walked along and gathered 
shells and plants from time to time, which I put in the 
net. 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


25 


“ What do you call that he would ask me every 
time he picked up a new plant or shell. 

I almost always remained silent, for, although I knew 
these plants and shells very well by sight, I was unac- 
quainted with their names. 

“You are a true son of the coast,” he said, impa- 
tiently, “ for you the sea is good only to plunder and 
to ransack ; it is the enemy against which you have to 
defend yourselves unceasingly. Will you never see, 
then, that it is, besides, as fruitful as the land, and that 
the forests which cover its plains and its mountains 
are peopled with a greater variety of animals than are 
the forests of the land. That boundless horizon, those 
clouds, those waves — will they never speak to you, then, 
but of storm and shipwreck ?” 

He expressed himself with a vehemence which, child 
as I was, frightened me, and it is rather the impression 
his words produced upon me than the words themselves 
(of which, as I hardly understood them at the time, I 
retain but an indistinct recollection) that I reproduce 
here, but this impression was so vivid that I fancy I 
can see him now, his head shaded by his umbrella, his 
right arm extended, looking towards the sea, drawing 
my fascinated gaze along with his. 

“ Come here,” he continued, pointing to a hollow in 
a rock where the water had remained, “ and let me give 
you some idea of what the sea really is. What is that ?” 

He pointed with his finger to a sort of fawn-colored 
stalk, attached at its base to a rock and terminating at 
its upper extremity in a species of yellow corolla, the 
fringed edges of which were white as snow. 

“ Is this a plant or is it an animal ? You do not know ; 


26 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


is it not SO ? Well, it is an animal ; if yon were to re- 
main here long enough you would, perhaps, see it de- 
tach itself from the stem, and you know very well that 
flowers do not walk. Look at it closely and you will 
see the part that resembles a flower expand and con- 
tract and sway from side to side. It is what smants 
call a sea-anemone. But in order that you may con- 
vince yourself that it is an atiimal, see if you can And 
me a shrimp. You know that flowers do not eat, do 
you not 

Saying this, he took the shrimp which I gave him and 
dropped it into the corolla of the anemone ; the corolla 
closed, and the shrimp disappeared from view. 

In a hollow fllled with water I found a little ray ; 
it had buried its flns in the sand, but its brown and 
white spots attracted my attention. I carried it to Mr. 
De Bihorel. 

‘^Tou discovered this ray,” he said, because of its 
spots, and the peculiarity that caused you to discover 
it betrays it also to the Ashes hunting for prey ; but 
as, at the bottom of the sea, there reigns a constant war- 
fare, in which its inhabitants destroy one another, as 
too often happens on the land, simply for pleasure and 
glory, these poor rays, which are bad swimmers, would 
soon be exterminated if nature had not made provision 
for their preservation. Look at the tail of your ray and 
you will see that it bristles with sharp points which 
protect it on that side in its flight, and the enemies 
whom its spots attract retreat discomflted before its 
coat of mail. There is here a law of compensation 
which you may make a note of now, and which you 
will understand later on.” 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


27 


I was amazed ; you may imagine the effect produced 
by this object lesson upon a boy naturally inquisitive 
and who had never before found any one able to answer 
his questions. Timidity, which at first had kept my 
mouth closed, soon vanished. 

Following the receding tide we soon reached the 
Dog’s Head. How long did we remain there ? I can- 
not tell. I had lost count of time. I ran from rock to 
rock, bringing back to Mr. De Bihorel shells and plants 
different from any I had ever seen before. I filled my 
pockets with a number of things which I thought very 
curious at the moment I picked them up, but which I 
soon threw away to replace them by others that had 
over them the incontestable advantage of being newer. 

Suddenly, on raising my eyes, I could no longer see 
the shore, it was hidden under alight mist ; the sky was 
of a uniform pale-gray ; the sea was so calm that we 
could scarcely hear its murmur behind us. 

If I had been alone I should have retraced my steps 
at once, for I well knew how difficult it is to find one’s 
way on the beach in a fog, but as Mr. De Bihorel said 
nothing I did not venture to say anything either. 

The fog, however, which now shrouded all the coast, 
advanced towards us like a cloud of smoke risingstraight 
up from the earth to the sky. 

“Ah, ah ! there is the fog,” said Mr. De Bihorel. “ If 
we do not wish to play a rather serious game of blind- 
man’s-buff, we had better return. Take the net.” 

But almost at the same instant the cloud reached us, 
enveloping us in its folds, and we could no longer dis- 
tinguish either the shore or the sea, which was fifty 
steps behind us ; we were wrapped in a gray obscurity. 


28 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


The sea is there behind us,” said Mr. De Bihorel, 
without showing any signs of disquietude ; we have 
only to walk straight on.” 

To walk straight on over the sand, with nothing to 
guide us, neither path nor footprint, nor even any ine- 
quality in the ground which should tell us whether 
we were ascending or descending, was indeed to play a 
rather dangerous game ; it was like playing a game of 
the Green Carpet of Versailles, which consists in walk- 
ing with blindfolded eyes from the parterre of Latona 
to the fountain of Apollo, without deviating from the 
path or stepping on the gravel, with this aggravating 
circumstance in our case, that we had at least half a 
league to walk before reaching the cliffs. 

We had not walked ten minutes before we came upon 
a group of rocks. 

They are the Green Rocks,” I said. 

“ It is the Pouldu,” said Mr. De Bihorel. 

They are the Green Rocks, sir.” 

He tapped me lightly on the cheek. 

^‘Ah, ah ! so it seems we have a stubborn little pate 
on our shoulders,” he said. 

If they were the Green Rocks we must turn to the 
right to reach the Pouldu ; if, on the contrary, it was 
the Pouldu we must turn to the left, or we should be 
walking away from the village. 

In broad daylight nothing is easier than to tell these 
two groups of rocks apart ; even at night, if the moon 
were shining, I should have no difficulty in recognizing 
them ; but veiled as they were by the fog, we could see 
nothing more than that they were a group of rocks 
covered with sea-weed. 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


29 


Let us listen,” said Mr. De Bihorel ; “ the noise 
of the waves washing the beach will serve to guide 
us.” 

We could hear nothing, however, neither the dashing 
of the waves against the beach, nor even the murmur 
of the sea. There was not a breath of air. We were 
enveloped in white cotton, as it were, which stopped 
our ears as well as our eyes. 

It is the Pouldu,” said Mr. De Bihorel. 

I did not dare to contradict him again, and I followed 
in his steps, turning, like him, to the left. 

“Come near, my child,” he said, in a gentle voice; 
“ give me your hand so that we may not lose each oth- 
er — one, two, let us keep step.” 

We walked on for some ten minutes longer, when I 
felt his clasp tighten on my hand. We heard a faint 
plashing. We had taken the wrong path, they were 
the Green Kocks ; we were walking straight towards 
the sea, from which we were only a few steps distant ! 

“ You were right,” he said; “we should have turned 
to the right. Let us go back.” 

Go back where ? How direct our course ? We knew 
in what direction the sea lay, because we heard the 
waves breaking gently on the beach ; but as we receded 
from it this sound died away, and we no longer knew 
whether we were walking towards the shore or had 
turned our backs upon it. 

The darkness increased at every moment, for in ad- 
dition to the obscurity caused by the fog, night was 
falling. For some moments past we had been unable 
to distinguish even the toes of our boots, and it was 
with difficulty that Mr. De Bihorel could see what the 


30 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


hour was by his watch. It was six o’clock ; the tide 
was beginning to come in. 

“We must hurry,” he said. “ If the sea overtakes us, 
it will travel faster than we; it wears seven-league 
boots.” 

He knew by the trembling of my hand in his that I 
was frightened. 

“Have no fear, my child,” he resumed; “a land- 
breeze is springing up which will blow the fog out to 
sea ; besides, we shall see the light-house, which will 
soon be lighted up.” 

There was little in this to reassure me. As for the 
light-house, I well knew that we should not be able to 
see its light. For some time past my thoughts had 
been occupied by the fate of three women who, the 
year before, had been surprised, like us, on this coast 
by the fog and drowned. Their bodies were not re- 
covered until a week afterwards. I had seen them as 
they were carried to Port Dieu, and I fancied I could 
see them now before me — a horrible sight in their poor 
rags, green with the sea-weed. 

Although I tried hard to restrain my tears, I could 
not prevent them from bursting forth. Without show- 
ing any impatience, Mr. He Bihorel tried to soothe me 
with kind words. 

“ Let us shout,” he said. “ If there should happen 
to be a coast-guard on the cliff he will hear us and 
answer. Those rascals ought to be good for some- 
thing.” 

We shouted ; he loudly, I in a voice broken by sobs. 
There was no response, not even an echo, and the 
gloomy silence increased my terror ; it seemed to me 


KOMAIN KALBKIS. 


31 


as if I were already lying dead at the bottom of the 
sea. 

Let ns walk/’ he said. Can you walk 

He took my hand, and we walked on at random. 
From the tone of his voice, as from time to time he 
said something hopeful to cheer me, I knew well that 
he, too, was anxious and had no faith in his own 
words. 

After we had walked for fully half an hour in this 
way despair took complete possession of me, and loosen- 
ing my hand from his grasp I threw myself on the sand. 

“ Leave me here to die, sir,” I cried, sobbing. 

This is pretty conduct,” he said. How we have 
another sort of flood. Dry your tears, I say. Is one 
to think of dying when one has a mother ? Come, get 
up, and follow me.” 

But his words had no effect upon me ; I remained 
where I was, unable to stir. 

Suddenly I uttered a cry. 

^ ^^Sir!” 

Well, my child?” 

See ! see ! Stoop down !” 

Do you wish me to carry you, my poor child ?” 

Ho, sir. Feel.” 

And taking his hand I placed it, palm downward, 
beside mine upon the sand. 

“ Well?” 

“Feel; there is water here.” 

Our beach is formed of a very flne sand, deep-lying 
and porous. At low-tide this sand, which has absorbed 
water like a sponge, gives it back in little streams that, 
following the descent of the beach, run down into the 


32 


KOMAIN KALBRI8. 


sea. It was one of these little streams whose course 
my hand had stopped. 

The land is there,” I said, pointing in the direction 
whence the water flowed. 

At the same time I rose to my feet ; hope had re- 
stored to me the use of my limbs ; Mr. De Bihorel had 
no need to drag me now. 

I walked on, stooping down from time to time to 
press my hand on the sand, in order to be sure, by fol- 
lowing an opposite direction to that in which the water 
ran, that we were leaving the sea behind us. 

You are a brave boy,” said Mr. De Bihorel. ^‘If 
it had not been for you we should both have been 
drowned, I truly believe.” 

Scarcely flve minutes after we had thought ourselves 
already safe, I fancied I could no longer feel the water. 
We went on a few steps farther ; the sand that met my 
touch now was almost dry. 

“ There is no more water,” I said. 

He stooped and touched the ground with both hands. 
We felt only the damp sand, which adhered to our 
Angers. 

At the same time I thought I heard a faint plash. 
Mr. De Bihorel had heard it also. 

You must have been mistaken,” he said ; we are 
walking towards the sea.” 

Ho, sir ; I am sure of what I say. Besides, if we 
were going towards the sea the sand would be moister 
than it is.” 

He stood up without answering. We remained thus 
for a time, hesitating which way to turn, lost once 
more. He took out his watch ; it was too dark to see 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


33 


the hands, but he made it strike the hour ; it was a 
quarter to seven. 

‘‘The tide has been coming in for more than an 
hour,” he said. 

“So you see, sir,” I replied, “that we have been 
walking inland.” 

As if to confirm my words, a hollow roar sounded 
at our backs. There could be no room for doubt ; the 
tide was advancing upon us. 

“ It is a nau^ then, we have before us,” he said. 

“ I think it is, sir.” 

The beach on this part of the coast, formed as it is of 
shifting sands, is never perfectly level ; here and there 
rise little hillocks, separated from each other by little 
valleys. All this is almost fiat to the eye when the 
tide is out, so slight are the elevations and depressions, 
but is made quite perceptible by the water, the incom- 
ing tide filling the valleys, while the hills remain dry, 
forming islands, washed on the one side by the rising 
tide, surrounded on all the other sides by currents, 
which fiow along the valleys like rivers fiowing along 
their beds. Before us was one of these currents, or 
nans. Was it deep? That was the only question. 

“We must cross the nau^'^ said Mr. De Bihorel. 
“ Hold fast to me.” 

And as I hesitated, 

“Which are you most afraid of wetting,” he said, 
“your head or your feet? You must choose between 
them. As for me, I prefer to wet my feet.” 

“ Ho, sir ; we should be drowned,” I replied. 

“ Would you rather remain where you are, then, and 
be overtaken by the sea ?” 

3 


34 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


but cross you first, sir. I will stay here and 
shout ; follow you the sound of my voice ; when you 
are on the opposite side, you will shout to me in your 
turn, and I will go in the direction from which the 
sound comes.” 

No ; you cross first.” < 

^^No; I can swim better than you.” 

‘^Tou are a brave boy; come and let me embrace 
you.” 

He embraced me as if I had been his own son ; this 
touched my heart. 

There was now no time to be lost ; the sea was ad- 
vancing rapidly upon us; at every instant its roar 
grew louder. He entered the water and I began to 
shout. 

‘‘ Do not shout,” said Mr. De Bihorel, whom I could 
no longer see ; sing, rather, if you know how.” 

“ Yes, sir ;” and I began to sing : 

*‘He was born in Normandy, 

There he was baptized Kageau; 

From his cradle his beauty 
Was the envy of high and low. 

Tra la, la! tra la, la!” 

I paused to say. 

Can you keep your footing, sir ?” 

“ Yes, my child; I think I am beginning to get out 
of the current. Sing.” 

I sang the second, and I was going to begin the third 
stanza of this rondeau when Mr. De Bihorel called to me, 

“It is your turn now; the water reaches only to 
my knees. Come.” 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


35 


And he chanted an air without words which was as 
mournful as a dirge. 

I entered the water in my turn, but I was not as 
tall as Mr. De Bihorel, and it was not long before I lost 
ray footing ; this did not matter to me, however, for I 
could swim like a fish. Only as there was a current I 
had some diflSculty in keeping in the right course, and 
it took me more than a quarter of an hour to reach 
him. 

Once together it was not long before we emerged 
from the water and found ourselves on the sand. 

He drew a breath of relief which showed me how 
keen his anxiety had been. 

“ Let us take a pinch of snuff,” he said ; we have 
well earned it.” 

But as soon as he opened his snuffbox he cried, 
shaking the snuff from his fingers, 

“ My snuff turned to coffee-grounds, and the wheels 
of my watch ploughing the water, no doubt, like mill- 
wheels! What will Saturday say?” 

I did not know what he meant by this, but I was no 
longer in the least afraid. I thought the danger was 
now past. 

This was not the case, however ; half our trials were 
not yet over. We were surrounded by the same dan- 
gers, and we had the same diflBculty as before to find 
our way. 

The fog seemed to have grown thicker ; night had 
fallen, and although we were nearer to the cliff, no 
sound came to us from that direction, saying to us. 

Land is here ;” neither the lowing of a cow, nor the 
cracking of a whip, nor the creaking of an axle-tree — 


36 


BOMAIN KALBKIS. 


nothing; before us a dead silence; behind the roar 
of the incoming tide. 

This was the only compass we had now to steer by, 
and it was in truth a treacherous and uncertain one ; 
if we went forward too quickly we might lose our 
way ; if too slowly, the tide might overtake and in- 
gulf us before we could reach the firm land, where the 
ascent would retard its course. 

We resumed our march, then, hand in hand. I 
stooped down frequently to feel the sand, but my 
hand no longer came in contact with running water ; 
we were' on a sand-bank furrowed with little hollows, 
in which the water either stood motionless or fiowed 
parallel with the shore. 

The hope we had cherished of being in safety when 
we should have crossed the nau was beginning to 
abandon us, when suddenly we both stood still at once. 
The sound of a bell had penetrated the fog in which 
we were enveloped. 

After an interval of a few seconds we heard another 
stroke and then another. 

It was the angelus at Port Dieu. We had only to 
walk in the direction whence the sound came and we 
were saved. 

Without exchanging a single word we began with 
one accord to run. 

Let us make haste,” said Mr. De Bihorel. The 
angelus does not last long; it is too short a prayer; 
they ought to add the litanies to it to guide us.” 

With what anxiety did we count the strokes of the 
bell as we ran on without pausing to take breath ! 
Neither of us spoke, but I knew very well that if the 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


37 


bell should cease ringing before we had reached the 
land, we might find ourselves in safety for a few mo- 
ments only to lose our way again. 

It ceased ringing, and we were still on the sands. 
Perhaps the land was only a few yards distant ; per- 
haps we had but a step to take to reach it. But how 
know in what direction to take this step? Our next 
step might, with equal probability, put us on the way 
to safety or remove us still farther from it, throwing 
us back into the midst of the dangers we had just 
escaped. 

Let us stop to consider,” said Mr. De Bihorel, and 
not take a single step at random. Feel the sand, my 
child. Have you noticed how many nans we have 
crossed ?” 

^‘Ho, sir.” 

Then you do not know whether there are any 
others to be crossed or not ? If we have crossed them 
all, we have only to wait. When the tide comes in 
we will feel our way before it.” 

Yes; but how if we should not have crossed them 
all ?” 

He did not answer, for he could only tell me what I 
already knew as well as he did — that is to say, that if 
there were still a nau between us and the land and we 
remained where we were, the incoming tide would fill 
it without giving us warning; we should have to 
swim across it, running the risk of being carried out to 
sea by the current, or thrown among rocks from which 
it would be impossible for us to escape. 

We had a moment of terrible anxiety, as we stood 
uncertain what to do, not venturing to take a single 


38 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


step, either forward or backward, to the right hand or 
to the left, for, standing where we had just heard the 
sound of the bell, at least, we were as certain as if it 
had been revealed to us by a flash of light that the 
village was in front of us, whereas, if we took but a 
single step, in whatever direction, we should again And 
ourselves a prey to the tortures of uncertainty. 

Our only hope now was that a gale might spring 
up, which would dispel the fog and enable us to see 
the light-house, for we could not count upon the noise 
of the sea to guide us ; we judged that we were to the 
south of the village, in front of a solitary cliff whence, 
at this hour, no noise could come. But the atmos- 
phere was so calm, so heavy, the fog was so thick, so 
solid, that to hope for a breeze to spring up it was 
necessary to be in a situation as desperate as ours, in 
which one hopes for the impossible and expects a 
miracle to happen. 

And this miracle happened. The bell, which had 
ceased ringing, once more began to peal. 

A baptism was taking place, and on this occasion we 
were sure the sound would last long enough to give 
us time to reach the land, for the chimes for baptism 
often last for half an hour or even longer, if the god- 
father has taken the precaution to strengthen the arms 
of the ringer. 

In less than ten minutes we had reached the land, 
and, winding our way along the base of the cliff, we 
reached the causeway which unites Mr. De Bihorel’s 
island to tlie main-land. We were saved. 

Mr. De Bihorel would have had me accompany him 
to his house, but notwithstanding the urgency of his 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


39 


invitation I refused. I was impatient to be at home, 
where, perhaps, my mother had already arrived. 

Well, then,” he said, “tell your mother that I will 
go to see her to-morrow evening.” 

I could very well have excused his making us this 
visit, from which my mother would learn how I had 
spent my day. But how prevent it ? 

My mother had not yet returned home. When she 
came in she found me in dry clothes, seated before the 
fire, which I had lighted. 

I delivered Mr. De Bihorel’s message to her. 

On the following evening he came, as he had prom- 
ised. I had been watching for him. When I heard 
his step, I had a mind to run away and hide myself. 

“ Has this boy told you of what he did yesterday ?” 
our visitor said to my mother, when he had seated him- 
self. 

“ Ho, sir.” 

“ Well, he played truant all day.” 

My poor mother looked at me, grieved and uneasy, 
thinking she was going to hear a long series of com- 
plaints against me. 

“ Ah, Komain !” she said, sadly. 

“ Do not scold him,” said Mr. De Bihorel, quickly, 
“ for he also saved my life. There, don’t tremble like 
that, my child ; but come here. You have a brave 
son, Madame Kalbris ; you have reason to be proud of 
him.” 

He then related to her how he had met me on the 
day before and how we had been overtaken by the fog. 

“You see, my dear madame, do you not,” he con- 
tinued, “ that if it had not been for him I should have 


40 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


been lost, beyond a doubt? I was vexed at his igno- 
rance in the morning, in not knowing the name of a sea- 
anemone. But when the moment of danger came, my 
science was all of no use to me ; and if I had not had 
the instinct of this child to guide me the sea-anemone, 
the crabs, and the lobsters would now be studying my 
anatomy. I owe your son a debt, then, of which I 
wish to acquit myself.’’ 

My mother made a gesture of refusal. 

^‘Make your mind easy,” he said, without heeding 
the interruption. shall propose nothing to you 
which would oifend your pride or be unworthy of the 
service I have received. Give him to me, and I will 
take charge of his education ; I drew the boy out in 
conversation ; he is eager to see and to learn. I love 
children, and I have none of my own ; he will not be 
unhappy with me.” 

My mother received this proposition as was fitting, 
but she did not accept it. 

Permit me to tell you,” said Mr. De Bihorel, as he 
gave her his hand, “ why it is that you refuse my pro- 
posal. You love your boy passionately ; you love him, 
not for his own sake alone, but for the sake of his dead 
father as well ; he is all you have now, and you wish to 
keep him with you. Am I not right ? Now I am going 
to tell you also why you ought to give him to me, not- 
withstanding this. He has a fund of intelligence which 
only requires to be cultivated ; at Port Dieu this would 
not be possible, nor, without seeking to pry into your 
affairs, would it be possible for you, I believe, to send 
him elsewhere ; add to this that the boy has an inde- 
pendent spirit and an adventurous disposition, and that 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


41 


he needs guidance. Think over what I have said ; do 
not give me an answer at once; reflect upon the matter 
quietly, when your maternal feelings shall have grown 
calmer. I will come back to-morrow evening.” 

When he had taken his departure we sat down to 
supper, but my mother did not eat ; she looked long 
and thoughtfully at me, and when her glance encoun- 
tered mine she turned her gaze on the Are. 

When I said good-night to her before going to bed, 
I felt my cheeks wet with her tears. What was the 
source of these tears? Was it pride at what Mr. De 
Bihorel had told her of me? Was it grief at our^p- 
proaching separation ? 

I thought then only of the separation, the idea of 
which troubled me also. 

“Don’t cry, mamma,” I said, kissing her; “I won’t 
leave you.” 

“ Yes, my child ; it is for your good. Mr. De Bihorel 
is right ; we must accept his offer.” 


V. 

The reception I met with on going to Mr. De Biho- 
rel’s justifled, in my mind, his reputation for eccentric- 
ity, of which I had already heard. 

When I reached the house, I found him standing be- 
fore the door ; he had seen me at a distance and had 
come out to welcome me. 

“ Come here,” he said, without giving me time to 
look about; “have you ever written a letter? No. 


42 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


Well, you shall write one now to your mother to tell 
her that you have arrived safely and that Saturday will 
go to-morrow for your clothes. I shall see from this 
letter what you know. Come in and sit down here.” 

He took me into a large apartment filled with books, 
pointed to a table on which were pen, ink, and paper, 
and left me to myself. 

I felt more disposed to cry than to write, for this 
brusqueness, coming while my heart was still oppressed 
with grief at parting from my mother, almost suffo- 
cated me. I did my best to obey him, however. But 
I wet the paper with my tears more than with ink, for, 
although it was my first letter home, I felt that 
have arrived and Saturday will go to-morrow for my 
clothes ” was not enough to say ; but I found it impos- 
sible to think of anything else. 

I had been struggling helplessly for a quarter of an 
hour or more to get beyond this wretched sentence 
when my attention was attracted by a conversation go- 
ing on in the adjoining room between Mr. De Bihorel 
and Saturday. 

The child has come, then,” said Saturday. 

“ Why, did you think he was not coming ?” 

thought that his coming would make a great 
change here.” 

In what respect ?” 

The master breakfasts at noon ; I take my mouthful 
early in the morning. Will the boy wait till noon to 
breakfast, or will he take his mouthful with me ?” 

‘‘You are a fool with your mouthful.” 

“Well, I never undertook to nurse children before.” 

“You were once a child yourself, were you not? 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


43 


Well, then, recall that time, and treat him as you were 
treated.” 

Oh, no ; that sort of treatment would not do in his 
case. I was brought up in the midst of hardships ; if 
you want to bring him up like that it would he better 
for you to send him home again. Do not forget that 
you owe the boy something.” 

“ Do not forget it, you, and act accordingly.” 

‘‘ Then I am to give him his mouthful with sugar ?” 

‘‘ Give him what you liked at his age, or, rather, ask 
him what he likes, and give him that.” 

If you put him on that footing things will go on 
well.” 

‘‘ Saturday, do you know what children serve for ?” 

^^They serve for nothing but to destroy and ruin 
everything and to make the world go to perdition.” 

They serve for something very different from that ; 
they serve to help us to begin life anew when we have 
gone astray ; they serve to carry out the purposes in 
which we have failed.” 

Almost immediately afterwards he entered the room 
where I was. 

“You have done nothing,” he said; “so much the 
better; it will not be necessary to pull up before plant- 
ing. I^ow, go run about.” 

It was indeed a strange place of abode, this island, 
which was called Pierre Gante. I have never seen 
another place like it. 

From the shore, the island presented the appearance 
of a triangular-shaped amphitheatre, the angle opposite 
the main-land, from which it was separated by an arm 
of the sea some four hundred yards in width, being 


44 


EOMAm KALBEIS. 


level and more prolonged than either of the other two. 
Tlie side facing the shore was covered with vegetation 
^ — plants and shrubs, among which rose, here and there, 
a gray granite peak. The side facing the sea was bar- 
ren, bare, and burned by the winds and the salt air. 

The house was situated on the highest point of the 
island, whose sides sloped upward, forming a small 
plateau. Here, while it had the advantage, on the one 
hand, of enjoying a view embracing the whole horizon, 
landward as well as seaward, it was exposed, on the 
other, to all the violence of the winds, from whatever 
quarter they might blow. But the winds spent their 
fury in vain against it, for, constructed under the min- 
istry of Choiseul to repel the invasions of the English 
and to serve as one of the numerous guard-houses on 
the coast, it had massive granite walls, several feet 
thick, and a bomb-proof roof. When Mr. De Bihorel 
bought this old shell he surrounded it on the outside 
with a gallery which, adding to its size, gave it a more 
cheerful air; and the interior he transformed into a 
habitable dwelling by means of partitions and doors. 
He had, indeed, rendered it neither comfortable nor 
elegant by these improvements; but neither had he 
taken away anything from its one indispensable qual- 
ity, which was to present as firm a front against the 
wind as the rock of which it seemed to form a part. 

These scorching winds, while they were a foe against 
whose attacks unceasing vigilance was necessary, were 
at the same time an advantage to the island. They 
rendered its temperature in winter milder than that of 
the main-land, so that in the valleys and in the shelter of 
the rocks and the hill-side> plants and shrubs were to be 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


45 


found which in more temperate climates grow only in 
hot-houses — such as oleanders, fuschias, and fig-trees. 

Most of the inequalities of the ground were due to 
nature; but some of them had been created by Mr. 
De Bihorel himself, who, aided by Saturday, had trans- 
formed the island into a sort of wild garden. The 
western side only had escaped cultivation ; swept un- 
ceasingly by the winds, and watered by the salt spray, 
it served as pasturage for two little Breton cows and 
several black sheep. 

What made this really considerable work of trans- 
formation and reclamation remarkable was that it had 
been accomplished by the unaided efforts of these two 
men. 

I had often heard it said in the village that Mr. De 
Bihorel had, in this matter, been actuated by avarice ; 
when I knew him better, however, I saw that he had 
acted, on the contrary, from principle. ^^Man ought 
to suflBce to himself,” he would often say, and I am 
a living example that it is possible for him to do so.” 

He pushed this idea so far in its application that not 
evenffor the common and ordinary affairs of life had he 
recourse to outside help. They lived upon cow’s milk, 
the fruits and vegetables of the garden, the fish caught 
by Saturday, the bread baked in the house, made from 
fiour ground in a little windmill, which was undoubt- 
edly the chef-d^ ceuvre of Mr. De Bihorel. If the island 
had been large enough, they would have raised suffi- 
cient grain for the entire year and apples to make 
cider. 

To be just, it must be said that the part Saturday 
took in all this was not inconsiderable. He had been 


46 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


in his time a cabin-boy, a sailor, body-servant to an 
oflScer, and cook on board a whaling vessel ; and in this 
way he had served an apprenticeship to many trades. 

The relationship existing between the two men was 
not that of master and servant ; they were rather two 
partners. They ate at the same table, and the only 
distinction between them was that Mr. De Bihorel sat 
at the upper end. There was something simple and 
dignified in this mode of living, at which I ceased to 
wonder when I found myself sharing it, but which 
causes me emotion now as I remember it. 

^^My boy,” said Mr. De Bihorel to me on the very 
day of my arrival, “it is not my intention to make a 
gentleman of you — that is to say, a notary or a doctor 
— but only a sailor who shall be a man. There is more 
than one way of learning; one may learn amusing one’s 
self and walking about. Is this system to your taste ?” 

This discourse sounded strange to me, child as I 
was. Experience made plain to me afterwards what I 
at first failed to comprehend. 

I was not a little surprised to learn that education 
could be carried on as an amusement, for it was not in 
this way that I had been accustomed to work at school. 
I was still more surprised when he gave me my first 
lesson — that is to say, that very afternoon. 

I accompanied him in his walk on the sea-shore, and, 
as we walked, he made me talk. We had entered a 
little oak grove. 

“ What are those he said to me, pointing to some 
ants crossing the road. 

“Ants,” I answered. 

“Yes, but what are they doing?” 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


47 


Carrying other ants.” 

“ Good. Now follow them to their ant-hill ; look 
well at them and tell me what you see ; if you see 
nothing that surprises you, return to-morrow, the day 
after to-morrow, every day, until you shall have ob- 
served something.” 

After two days spent in watching the ant-hill, I saw 
that there were ants there who did absolutely nothing, 
while there were others who toiled ceaselessly and who 
even fed the lazy ones. 

“Very good,” he said, when I communicated to him 
the result of my observations; “you have seen the prin- 
cipal thing ; that suffices. Those ants who do nothing 
are not sick or disabled, as you may imagine ; they are 
the masters of those who work, who are their slaves. 
Without the assistance of those slaves they would be 
unable to go in search of food. This surprises you; 
the same thing, however, is often seen in our own 
world ; there are still countries where there are men 
who do nothing and who are fed by others who work. 
If this idleness proceeded from the inability of the 
masters to work, nothing would be easier to understand 
than that some should work and others do nothing. 
To help one another is indeed right, but that is not 
what happens here. The masters among the ants are 
those which are most skilful in the things which re- 
quire strength and courage — such as war. We will go 
back to observe the ants together, and we shall doubt- 
less see them engaged in some great battle among 
themselves. While you are waiting for an opportunity 
to witness one of these combats, I will give you an ac- 
count of one to read, written by a savant named Huber, 


48 


ROMAIJSr KALBEIS. 


which took place simultaneously with another great 
battle, a much more terrible one, five hundred leagues 
away, between men. Whether the men had any better 
reason than the ants to massacre each other on that 
particular day I do not know ; but I do know that the 
slaughter was frightful. I myself came very near be- 
ing left dead on the field. We were marching along 
the borders of a river called the Elbe, on the opposite 
bank of which a Kussian battery was stationed, whose 
guns we could hear, although we could not see the exe- 
cution they did, as we were sheltered by a bend of the 
river and by an embankment. During the whole time 
we were marching I kept thinking that this day, which 
might be the day of my death (for we had to pass un- 
der the fire of the enemy), was my wife’s fete day, and 
regretting that I could not wish her joy on the occa- 
sion. Suddenly I perceived at my feet, in the damp 
ditch in which I was walking, a cluster of myosotis in 
full bloom. It must not be supposed that battles are 
fought, as they are represented in pictures, with un- 
broken ranks. We had been detached as skirmishers; 
that is to say, we were independent in our movements. 
In spite of the seriousness of the situation, the little 
blue fiowers caught my attention. I stooped down to 
gather a few of them, and at the same instant I felt a 
terrific wind pass close to my head ; I heard a deafen- 
ing detonation, and I received full on my back a heap 
of willow branches. We were in front of the battery, 
and it had mowed down my comrades all around me. 
If I had remained standing — that is to say, if it had not 
been for my bunch of fiowers — I should have been 
killed like them. Confess that I had done well to 


ROMAIN KALBRI8. 


49 


think of my wife. When I succeeded in freeing my- 
self from the willow branches. Marshal Ney had si- 
lenced the Russian cannon.” 

With this account of the battle of Friedland still 
fresh in my mind, I read that evening Huber’s account 
of the combat of the ants. Huber was blind. He saw 
with the eyes of the most devoted and the most intelli- 
gent of servants, to whom he dictated the most de- 
lightful book that has ever been written on bees and 
ants. If Mr. De Bihorel had not led me to read the 
account of the battle of the ants in the way he had 
done, if he had imposed the reading of it upon me as a 
task instead of giving it to me as a reward, what effect 
would it have produced on a child of my age, ignorant 
as I was ? Thanks to the manner in which he presented 
it to me, it entered so fully into my mind, already pre- 
pared for it, that to-day, notwithstanding the years that 
have passed since then, the impression I retain of it is 
clearer and more vivid than that of many books that I 
have read recently. 

Mr. De Bihorel was not very fond of reading. There 
was one book, however, which he put at once into my 
hands ; but this book was for him what the Bible is for 
Protestants, the Imitation for a Catholic. It was on 
this book that he had modelled his life ; it was this book 
which had created Pierre Gante and the marvels of in- 
dustry there ; it was this book which had suggested to 
him the idea of the large umbrella ; this book which 
had given his name to Saturday whom, out of respect 
for its hero, he had not called Friday — it was Robinson 
Crusoe, 

^^Tou will learn in this book,” he said, as he gave it 

4 


50 


KOMAUSr KALBRIS. 


to me, “ what force of will can accomplish ; you will 
learn also that if a man, by the exercise of his will, 
can reproduce every human invention, he ought not 
to pride himself too much on this power, for there 
is still above him One greater than he. You do not 
understand now, perhaps, the meaning of these words, 
but you will do so later, and it is necessary that I 
should say this to you. Besides, even if you are not 
struck by this great truth, you will still, like all who 
read the book, find something in it that will please 
you.” 

I do not know if there are children who can read 
Robinson Crusoe without emotion ; as for me, I was en- 
chanted with it. 

I must confess, however, that what attracted me most 
was not the philosophical side of the story, to which my 
attention had been directed, but its romantic side — the 
adventures at sea, the shipwreck, the desert island, with 
its savages, its terrors, its unknown dangers. My In- 
dian uncle had a rival in my thoughts. 

I found in it the justification of my longings, as it 
were. Who is there who has not put himself in the 
place of De Foe’s hero, and said to himself : 

“ Why should not such adventures happen to me ? 
Why should not I be able to do all that he did ?” 

It is not the child in arms only who thinks he has 
but to stretch out his hands to grasp the moon. 

Saturday, who knew so many things, did not know 
how to read. Seeing^y enthusiasm, he was curious 
to know the adventures that had aroused it, and he 
asked me to read them to him. 

“ He will tell them to you,” said Mr. De Bihorel, 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


51 


and that will be better ; you are primitive enough to 
prefer a narration to a reading.” 

Ten years of voyaging had given Saturday a certain 
amount of experience, and he did not accept all my 
stories without expressing an occasional doubt as to 
their veracity. But I always had an answer ready for 
him which ended the discussion — 

It is so in the book.” 

^^Are you quite sure, my little Romain?” 

I would take the book and read. 

Saturday would listen, scratching his nose; then, with 
the submissiveness of a blind faith : 

Since it is so in the book,” he would say, of course 
it must be so ; but all the same I have been myself on 
the coast of Africa, and I never saw lions swimming 
out from shore to attack a vessel. But go on.” 

He had sailed chiefly in northern waters, and he had 
many reminiscences of his voyages, with which he in 
his turn often entertained me. 

On one occasion, being overtaken by the snows, they 
had been obliged to pass the winter in those inhospita- 
ble regions. For more than six months they had lived 
under the snow, and more than half the crew had re- 
mained buried there. Even the dogs had died, not from 
cold or from want of food, but from want of light. If 
there had been oil enough to keep the lamps burning 
they need not have died. His adventures were almost 
as wonderful as those of Robinson Crusoe — sometimes, 
indeed, almost too wonderful for my belief. 

Are those things in a book ?” I would ask. 

Saturday was then obliged to confess that he had not 
read them, although he had seen them. 


52 


KOMAIN KALBRI8. 


‘^What does that matter/’ I would answer, since 
they are not in a book ?” 

Conversations like these, it must be confessed, were 
not calculated to inspire me with a desire for a tranquil 
life on shore ; so that my mother, distressed at seeing 
my natural inclinations so unfortunately encouraged, 
appealed to Mr. De Bihorel. 

“ My dear madame,” he answered, I will give you 
back the boy, if you think I urge him towards a calling 
which you would not like to see him follow. But you 
will never be able to change his nature ; he is of the 
race of those who strive after the impossible. I agree 
with you that such a disposition rarely leads to fortune, 
but it sometimes leads to great things.” 

Such is the ingratitude of children that about this 
time I would have left Pierre Gante almost gladly. 
Mr. De Bihorel had studied the cries of birds, and in 
these cries he believed, whether rightly or not, that he 
had discovered a language, of which he compiled a 
dictionary. He wished to teach it to me. I could un- 
derstand absolutely nothing of it. Thence arose con- 
tiuual occasions for anger on his part, for tears on mine.^ 

This language was something curious, however, and 
I regret now that I can remember only a few words of 
it. All that a bird can express Mr. De Bihorel aflSrmed 
he had succeeded in translating, as he said, literally : 

I am hungry “ There is food yonder Let us fly 
away;” “Let us make a nest;” ^^Kia ouah tsiouV^ (a 
storm is approaching). But I was then still too much 
of a child and too much of a peasant to admit that 
animals could talk. We can understand music, although 
it is not our native speech, and we will not admit that 


ROMAIC KALBRIS. 


53 


birds, they who were our first masters in the art, can 
understand it. Our dogs, our horses, our domestic ani- 
mals understand our language. Was it, then, altogether 
impossible that Mr. De Bihorel should understand the 
language of the birds ? 

My mother, disturbed by Mr. De Bihorel’s answer, 
did not persist in her demand, and I was obliged to con- 
tinue studying the dictionary of the guillemots and the 
sea-mews. 

^‘You will see later,” said Mr. De Bihorel to me, 
“the utility of what now seems to you ridiculous. 
Your mother is afraid that you will be a sailor; it is not 
my wish, either, that you should become one, for as 
things now are one may enter the naval service at 
fifteen full of enthusiasm, to leave it at forty in dis- 
gust. But you have a passion for the sea ; with you it 
is a family calling, and we must arrange matters so as 
to satisfy both your own inclination and your mother’s 
wishes. My desire is that you should become a man 
like Andre Michaux, whose life you read the other day ; 
like Siebold, a Dutch physician, to whom we are in- 
debted for our earliest knowledge of Japan ; or like the 
Englishman, Kobert Fortune. I should like to fit you 
to travel in lands which are little known, for the good 
of your country, which you would enrich with new 
plants and useful animals ; for the good of science, 
whose soldier you would become. That would be a 
better occupation than following the sea and spending 
all your life carrying coffee from Bio Janeiro to Havre, 
. and Parisian articles from Havre to Bio Janeiro ; and 
if my hopes are realized, you will see that what you 
are now learning will be of real use to you.” 


54 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


It was a beautiful dream. Unfortunately, it re- 
mained a dream. Whether this clear-sighted and ele- 
vated guidance would have made of me the man Mr. De 
Bihorel wished I do not know, for it ceased precisely 
at the time when it was most necessary, and just as I 
had begun to profit by the lessons of this excellent man. 
This unlooked-for catastrophe happened in the follow- 
ing manner: 

I usually accompanied Mr. De Bihorel in his excur- 
sions. Occasionally, however, he would go out alone 
in the long-boat to study at his ease the cries of the 
birds at the island of the Grimes, which is about three 
leagues distant from Port Dieu. 

One day, when he had gone on one of these excur- 
sions before I was out of bed, we were greatly sur- 
prised, when the dinner -hour arrived, to find that he 
had not yet returned. 

^^He must have missed the tide,” said Saturday; 
“ he will not be home now before evening.” 

The weather was fine, the sea calm ; there was, ap- 
parently, no danger to be feared. Yet Saturday seemed 
uneasy. 

Evening came, but. Mr. De Bihorel had not returned, 
and Saturday, instead of going to bed, went and kin- 
dled a large fire of logs on the highest point of the 
island. I wanted to accompany him, but he sent me 
back to bed, crossly. Towards morning I rose and 
joined him. He was walking up and down before the 
fire, which sent up great red fiames, and from time to 
time he stopped to listen. Nothing could be heard but 
the murmur of the sea, and occasionally a faint sound, 
the rustling of wings, when some bird, which the light 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


55 


had awakened in its nest, would flutter about for a mo- 
ment and then fall dazed among the burning brands. 

Dawn was brightening the eastern sky. 

“ There is no doubt that something has happened to 
him,” said Saturday. ^^We must borrow Gosseaume’s 
boat and go in search of him to the island of the 
Grunes.” 

The island of the Grunes is a group of granite rocks 
inhabited only by sea-birds. It did not take us long to 
search it through ; no trace was to be found anywhere, 
either of Mr. De Bihorel or of the long-boat. 

At Port Dieu the utmost anxiety prevailed ; for, 
notwithstanding his eccentricity, old Mr. Sunday was 
greatly loved by the villagers. His disappearance was 
inexplicable. 

His boat may have capsized,” some of the villagers 
said. 

In that case it would have been found,” objected 
others. 

‘‘ The currents may have carried it away.” 

Saturday said nothing, but he did not leave the shore 
the whole day ; when the tide ebbed he followed the 
receding waters, and, one after another, examined every 
rock along the beach. Sometimes we would And our- 
selves, when night came, flve or six leagues distant 
from Port Dieu. He did not speak ; he never uttered 
Mr. De Biborel’s name ; only when we met some flsh- 
erman he would say to him, 

‘‘Ho news?” 

And then, when he saw my eyes All with tears, he 
would say, tapping me on the head, 

“You are a good boy ; yes, you are a good boy.” 


56 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


A fortnight after this mysterious disappearance, a 
certain Mr. De la Berryais, who lived in Lower Nor- 
mandy, arrived at Pierre Gante. He was a grand- 
nephew of Mr. De Bihorel, and his only remaining re- 
lation. 

After making us give him a minute account of all 
that had passed, he engaged twelve men at Port Dieu 
to explore the coast. The search continued for three 
days ; on the evening of the third day he stopped it, 
declaring that it was henceforth useless, and that Mr. 
De Bihorel had certainly perished; the tide must have 
carried both the body and the long-boat out to sea. 

“ How do you know that?’’ cried Saturday. “ You 
say it because you would wish it to be so. The tide 
may have carried the long-boat out to sea without its 
having capsized; perhaps the master has landed in 
England. What is there to prevent his coming back 
to-morrow or the next day ?” 

The men who had carried on the search were pres- 
ent when he said this. No one contradicted him, 
through respect for his grief, but no one shared his 
opinion. 

On the following day Mr. De la Berryais sent for 
Saturday and me, and said to us that no one was now 
needed at Pierre Gante, that the house was to be shut 
up, and that the notary would attend to the wants of 
the animals until they should be sold. 

Saturday was so taken by surprise that he could only 
stammer a few unintelligible words in answer ; then,, 
suddenly turning towards me. 

Make up your bundle,” he said ; “ we will go from 
here at once*” 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


57 


As we were leaving the island we met Mr. De la 
Berryais on the causeway; Saturday walked straight 
up to him. 

Sir,” he said, you may be his nephew in the eyes 
of the law, but in my eyes you are not ; no, you are 
not his nephew ; and it is a true sailor who tells you so.” 

It had been agreed upon that Saturday was to accept 
the hospitality of my mother until he should be able 
to find a lodging in the village, but he did not remain 
long with us. 

Every morning he went to the beach, where he con- 
tinued his researches. This lasted for some three 
weeks, when one evening he told us that he was going 
to leave us on the following day, to go to one of the 
Channel islands — perhaps to England itself. 

For the sea,” he said to us, “keeps nothing; it may 
be that it has taken nothing.” 

My mother questioned him in regard to his plans, 
but she could draw nothing further from him. 

I went with him on board the coaster on which he 
was to ^ail. 

When I embraced him, 

“ You are a good boy,” he said. “ Go sometimes to 
Pierre Gante and take a handful of salt to the black 
cow ; she, too, was fond of you.” 


58 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


VI. 

I HAD an uncle in whom the blood of the Kalbris did 
not show itself, and who had preferred terra jirma to 
to the sea. He was a bailiff at Dol, and had the repu- 
tation of being very wealthy. 

My mother, not knowing what to do with me when 
I returned home, wrote to him, asking his advice in the 
matter. A month afterwards he arrived in Port Dieu. 

“I did not answer your letter,” he said, ^‘because, 
as I intended to come, it was not worth while spending 
money on postage ; it is hard enough to earn. I did 
not come sooner because I was waiting for an oppor- 
tunity; I found a fishmonger who took me fifteen 
leagues for twelve sous ; ’tis so much saved.” 

It may easily be guessed from these words that my 
uncle Simon was of a saving disposition ; he soon gave 
us the proof that this was the case. 

I see what you mean,” he said, when we had made 
him acquainted with the condition of our affairs ; “ you 
do not wish the boy to go to sea ; you are right, sister- 
in-law, it is a dog’s life ; one makes nothing at it ; and 
you would rather he should finish the education he be- 
gan with old Sunday. But you have not counted upon 
me to help you, I hope ?” 

have never asked any money from you,” an- 
swered my mother, with gentle dignity. 

Money ! I have none. They say I am rich, but that 
is not the case. I am in debt to everybody. I have 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


59 


been obliged to buy a piece of property which is ruin- 
ing me.’’ 

The priest has told me,’'’ continued my mother, 
“ that the manner of his father’s death and his services 
to the State entitle the boy to admittance to a college 
without payment.” 

‘‘And who would take the necessary steps ? Not I, 
you may depend upon it. I have not the time, and I 
do not like to bore people of influence whom I know ; 
one might have need of them afterwards. No; you 
can do better than that. The Leheu Brothers have 
promised to take charge of the boy ; it is their place 
to pay his college expenses.” 

“ They have not alluded to the matter again.” 

“Well, then, I would speak to them about it if I 
were you.” 

As my mother was about to interrupt him, 

“ There should be no false delicacy,” pursued my 
uncle; “ask what is your right. It is those who wait 
to be asked who ought to be ashamed; remember that.” 

My mother was obliged to resign herself to taking 
this step, against which her sense of right and her 
pride alike rebelled ; my uncle was a man who tolerated 
no opposition. 

“You understand,” he said, in conclusion, “that I 
have neglected my own affairs to attend to yours ; the 
least you can do is to follow my advice.” 

He was a man who was economical of his time, also. 

“ You,” he said, turning towards me, “ must go at 
once to the office of the Messrs. Leheu, to see if they 
are both there ; I will wait for you in the street, and if 
they are together we will go in. I know their ways ; 


60 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


if we see them apart, the one we see first will promise 
to do everything we ask him, as soon as he has let his 
brother know, and the latter will refuse what the other 
has promised. I don’t believe in those tricks.” 

As they were both in their office we went in, and I 
witnessed a strange scene, the minutest details of which 
are engraved on my memory ; it must have impressed 
me deeply, for when we left the room my face was 
crimson ; I felt instinctively that it was to dishonor 
my father’s self-devotion to ask payment for it from 
those egotists, and my eyes filled with tears of 
shame. 

When my uncle had put his proposition into plain 
words, the two brothers showed unmistakable signs of 
astonishment, and moved as uneasily upon their chairs 
as if they had been sitting on thorns. 

‘‘ Send him to college !” cried the younger. 

“ To college !” repeated the elder. 

“We, the Leheu Brothers!” cried both in chorus. 

“ Did you not promise to adopt him ?” replied my 
uncle. 

“Adopt him?” said the elder. 

“Adopt him? You 1” cried the younger. 

“Adopt him ? We !” vociferated both together. 

Then began a confused and noisy discussion ; every 
response of the younger of the brothers was immedi- 
ately repeated by the elder, exactly in the same words, 
only in a ten times higher key ; the one screamed, the 
other vociferated. Throughout all the dispute my 
uncle had kept his self-control, but when the two 
brothers repeated in chorus, “We do more than we 
promised ; we give the mother work,” he laughed a 


KOIVIALN KALBRIS. 


61 


little dry laugh, which immediately made them lower 
their tone. 

Finally, when they had returned for the fifth or 
sixth time to this argument, he made an impatient 
gesture. 

One would think you were ruining yourselves by 
that,” he said ; upon my word, you carry your thrift 
further than any one I ever met. You give, you give 
— to hear you one would think you gave your fortune, 
and you give — work. Do you not get the value of 
your ten sous and food in work ? Do you pay more 
to his mother than you would have to pay to any other 
seamstress 

We pay her in cash,” said the younger, with a gest- 
ure of just pride, and we are disposed — yes, we are 
disposed — not to stop at that. When you come to tell 
us that Kalbris lost his life to save our fortune, that is 
not true; he lost his life trying to save men, sailors 
like himself, from drowning; and that, you know very 
well, is not our business, but the Government’s ; there 
is an appropriation made for those who amuse them- 
selves in playing the hero. No matter for that, how- 
ever ; when the boy grows up and knows how to work, 
let him come to us and we will give him work, shall 
we not, Jerome?” 

‘‘Work,” said the elder, “and as much of it as he 
wants.” 

This was all the satisfaction my uncle could obtain. 

“ These are people” — he began, when we were out- 
side the^ office door. 

I thought I was going to hear the explosion of his 
long-repressed anger. 


62 


ROMAIN KALBEI8. 


These are admirable people,” continued my uncle, 
amazed at meeting any one as penurious as himself ; 

let them serve you as an example. They can say no. 
Bear that word well in mind. Only by knowing how 
to say that word can a man be sure of keeping what 
he has made.” 

Not being able to send me to college with the money 
of the Leheu Brothers, my uncle proposed to my moth- 
er to take me home with him. He was just then in 
need of a clerk ; I was very young to fill such a position, 
but if I did not earn my board at first, by binding my- 
self to remain with him for five years without payment, 
I should be able to indemnify him, to some extent, tow- 
ards the end of that period, for what I should have cost 
him in the beginning ; besides, I was his nephew, and 
he wished to do something to help his family. 

This was not, alas, the education which my poor 
mother so ardently desired for me, but it was at least 
a means of preventing me from being a sailor. I went, 
then, with my uncle. It was a sorrowful parting. I 
wept bitterly, my mother wept more bitterly still, and 
my uncle scolded each of us in turn. 

The sight of Dol, which is undoubtedly a pictu- 
resque place for one who is travelling for pleasure, pro- 
duced on me the first melancholy impression ever 
caused by material objects. It was dark when we ar- 
rived there, and an icy rain was falling. We had set 
out from Port Dieu early in the morning in a fish- 
monger’s wagon going to Cancale, which set us down 
at five or six leagues’ distance from the city, and we 
had walked across broad, marshy plains, crossed at in- 
tervals by trenches filled with water, my uncle in 


ROMAIC KALBRI8. 


63 


front; and I found it difficult to keep up with him, 
afflicted as I still was by the recent parting from my 
mother. In addition to my grief, I was so faint with 
hunger that my knees bent under me ; but as my uncle 
during the whole of this long day had not once spoken 
of stopping to eat, I had not ventured to speak of do- 
ing so either. At last we perceived the lights of the 
city, and, after walking through two or three deserted 
streets, my uncle stopped before a tall house, with a 
portico in front supported by large pillars. He took a 
key out of his pocket and turned it in a lock ; I took 
a step forward to enter ; he stopped me ; the door was 
not yet opened. He drew a second key from his 
pocket, then a third, this last key being a very large 
one. The bolts creaked with a metallic sound, which 
I recalled afterwards on hearing it in prison scenes at 
the theatre, and the door opened. These three locks 
produced in me a feeling of mingled fear and wonder. 
At our house there was only a latch with a string at- 
tached to it, and at Mr. De BihorePs a simple bolt. 
Why, then, did my uncle take all these precautions ? 

He closed the door in the same manner in which he 
had opened it ; then, taking me by the hand, he led me 
in the darkness across two apartments which appeared 
to me to be very large, and where our steps resounded 
on the stone pavement as if we were walking through 
a church. The air was permeated by a strange odor 
which was new to me — the odor of old parchments and 
musty papers, peculiar to the atmosphere of law offices 
and the offices of business men. When the candle was 
lighted, I saw that we were in a species of kitchen, but 
it was so encumbered with desks, presses, and old 


64 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


black oaken chairs that its size and shape could only 
be guessed at. 

Notwithstanding this not very inviting aspect, I felt 
a thrill of joy — at last we were going to warm our- 
selves and get something to eat. 

Shall I light the fire ?” I asked my uncle. 

The fire 

He made me this answer in so harsh a voice that I 
did not venture to say that I was wet to the skin, and 
that my teeth were chattering with cold. 

“We are going to bed after we have had supper,” he 
said. 

And, going to a press, he took from it a loaf of bread 
and cut two slices, placed on each of the slices a morsel 
of cheese, gave me one of them, put the one which he 
had reserved for himself on a table and replaced the 
bread in the press, which he locked. 

I know not what may be the sensations of the pris- 
oner when he hears the key of his dungeon turned upon 
him, but they cannot be much more painful than those 
which I experienced when the creaking of the lock of 
this press fell upon my ear. It was very evident that 
it would be of no use to ask for a second slice of bread, 
and yet I could very well have eaten five or six such 
slices as that which my uncle had given me. 

At this moment three starved-looking cats rushed 
into the kitchen and ran to rub themselves against my 
uncle’s legs ; this gave me a little hope ; they came to 
ask their supper, and if the press were opened I should 
at least have the chance of having another slice of bread 
cut for me. 

But my uncle did not open it. 


KOMAIN KALBKIS. 


65 


“ The jolly fellows are thirsty,” he said ; ‘‘ we must 
not let them become mad.” 

And he set before them some water in a tin pan. 
Since you are now one of the family,” he contin- 
ued, ‘‘you must see that they never want for water; 
that will be your duty.” 

“And food ?” I asked. 

“ There are plenty of rats and mice for them to eat. 
If they were to gorge themselves with food they would 
grow lazy,” he answered. 

Our supper was soon ended, and my uncle then said 
that he would show me to the chamber which I was 
henceforth to occupy. 

The confusion of objects which I had observed in 
the kitchen was repeated on the staircase, on which, 
though it was very wide, there was scarcely room to 
pass. On the steps were rusty andirons, clocks, statues 
in wood and stone, turnspits, faience vases, odd-shaped 
pieces of pottery, and all sorts of articles, of whose 
names and uses I was ignorant. On the walls hung 
frames, pictures, swords, helmets, all in a confusion 
which seemed greater seen in the flickering light of 
the little candle that guided our steps. Of what use 
could all these things be to my uncle ? 

This was the perplexing question I asked myself 
without being able to answer it, for I did not know 
until later that to the profession of bailiff he joined an- 
other and a much more lucrative one. 

Having left Port Dieu while quite a boy, he had ob- 
tained a situation in Paris with an auctioneer and ap- 
praiser with whom he had remained for twenty years, 
and whom he had left to open an office at Dol. But 
6 


66 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


the office was in reality only a secondary ; the trade in 
old furniture and antiques of all sorts was his chief 
business. Intrusted, from his profession, with sales of 
all kinds, acquainted with everybody, having access to 
every house, he knew whenever there was a chance for 
a bargain, and was in a better situation to profit by his 
knowledge than any one else. Under cover of an as- 
sumed name, he bought in for himself any article 
which he considered valuable either as a work of 
art or from the caprice of fashion, and resold it at 
an enormous profit to the large merchants in Paris — 
the Yidalinqs and the Monbros — with whom he had 
dealings. Thus it was that his house, from the cel- 
lar to the garret, was a veritable storehouse of antiqui- 
ties. 

Like all the rooms of this old house, which seemed 
to have been built by giants, the room to which my 
uncle conducted me was of immense size; but it was so 
filled with articles of various sorts that he was obliged 
to point out the bed to me before I perceived it. On 
the walls hung tapestries with figures of life-size, from 
the ceiling hung stuffed animals — a cormorant, a croco- 
dile, the red maw wide open, and in one corner of the 
room, behind a trunk which concealed its legs, was a 
suit of armor surmounted by a helmet, looking as if it 
covered the head of a living warrior. 

^^Are you afraid said my uncle, seeing my fright- 
ened and bewildered look. 

I did not venture to confess that this was the case, 
and answered that I was cold. 

Hurry, then, and let me take away the candle. 
Here we go to bed in the dark.” 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


67 


I slipped into bed, but he had no sooner closed the 
door than I called him back. He returned. 

The press had creaked. 

‘‘ Uncle, there is a man in the press,” I said. 

He approached my bedside and looked at me fix- 
edly. 

“ Never attempt to say so silly a thing as that again,” 
he said, or you will have to settle accounts with me.” 

For more than an hour I kept my face hid under the 
damp bedclothes, trembling with fear, cold, and hun- 
ger ; then, by dint of reasoning with myself, I plucked 
up heart a little, uncovered my head, and opened my 
eyes. Through the high windows the moonlight poured 
into the room, separating it into three compartments, 
two of them bright, one dark. The wind was blowing 
outside, the panes of glass shook in their leaden 
frames, and from time to time light white clouds pass- 
ed across the face of the moon ; for a long time I kept 
my eyes fixed upon the silvery disk, and I believe I 
would have gazed at it all night, for it was to me what 
the light-house is to the sailor, and I fancied that so 
long as it continued to shine I was safe; but it soon rose 
high above the horizon, and, while the light still entered 
the room, the moon itself disappeared from view above 
the tall windows. I closed my eyes ; but in every cor- 
ner of the apartment, behind every article of furniture, 
there was a magnet which, with irresistible power, at- 
tracted my gaze and kept my eyelids open against my 
will. At this instant a gust of wind shook the house, 
the timbers creaked, from the moving tapestry stood 
out a man dressed in red, waving a sword ; the croco- 
dile began to dance from the end of his cord, opening 


68 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


wide his capacious jaws, and gigantic shadows chased 
one another across the ceiling, while the warrior, whom 
all this confusion had awakened from his slumbers, 
shook in his armor. I tried to cry out, to stretch out 
my arms to the warrior to entreat him to protect me 
from the red man, but I could neither move nor utter a 
sound, and I felt that my senses were leaving me. 

When I returned to myself my uncle was shaking 
me by the arm and it was broad daylight. My first 
glance was in the direction of the red man ; he had 
gone back to his place in the tapestry, which hung mo- 
tionless on the wall. 

You must take care to waken of yourself, and ear- 
lier than this hereafter,” said my uncle. Now hurry, 
that I may set you to work before I go out.” 

My uncle had that bustling activity which is met with 
only among people of short stature, and if he liad been 
endowed with the same amount of energy as all the 
other Kalbris, as the frame which this energy had to 
put in motion was a very diminutive one, he would 
have performed miracles of work. He rose every morn- 
ing at four, went down into his office and worked there 
furiously until his clients began to arrive — that is to say, 
until eight or nine o’clock. It was the work done dur- 
ing these four or five hours that I had to copy during 
the day, for the documents of bailiffs are made in du- 
plicate — the original and a copy. 

No sooner had my uncle left the house than I aban- 
doned the task he had given me, for ever since I had 
wakened I could think of nothing but the man in red 
on the tapestry ; I felt that if in the coming night he 
were again to step out from the wall I should die in- 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


69 


stantly; and when I thought of his menacing counte- 
nance and his raised sword, the perspiration broke out 
on my forehead. 

I proceeded to look about the house for a hammer 
and nails. When I had found what I wanted, which 
was not a difficult task, for my uncle never employed 
any one to mend a piece of furniture which came to him 
in bad condition, I returned to my room. I went 
straight to the man in red ; he had assumed the most 
harmless air in the world, and stood perfectly quiet in 
his place in the tapestry. I did not allow myself to be 
deceived by this hypocritical tranquillity, however, but 
with a few heavy blows of the hammer nailed his arm 
fast to the wall. The warrior essayed to move in his 
armor ; but the sun shone brightly, the hour for phan- 
toms had passed ; I gave him a good blow of the hammer 
on his cuirass, and I let the crocodile understand by a 
sign that he must behave himself unless he wished to 
be treated in the same manner. 

This done, and my conscience all the more tranquil 
because I had resisted a vengeful desire which im- 
pelled me to drive a nail into the neck of the man with 
the sword also, I went down again to the office and 
finished my work before my uncle had returned. 

He was pleased to express himself as satisfied with 
what I had done, and to tell me that every day when I 
had finished my task I might, by way of recreation, 
amuse myself by dusting the furniture and rubbing 
with a brush and a woollen rag the articles which were 
of old oak. 

What a contrast between this new life and the happy 
life I had led with Mr. De Bihorel ! 


70 


JROMAIN KALBRIS. 


I accustomed myself easily enough to the fourteen 
hours’ work daily which was imposed upon me, but I 
could not accustom myself at all to the dietary of my 
nncle. The locking of the loaf of bread in the press 
was not an exceptional occurrence; it was the rule, and 
at every meal I must content myself with the slice I 
found upon the table. 

On the fourth or fifth day, urged by hunger, I sum- 
moned courage, and as the press was about to *be shut 
I stretched out my hand ; the gesture was so eloquent 
that my uncle understood it at once. 

You would like to have a second piece of bread,” 
he said, as he finished locking the press. You have 
done well to speak of it. From this forth I will give 
you a loaf for yourself ; the day on which you chance 
be very hungry you can cut as much of it as you wish.” 

I felt inclined to throw my arms about his neck. He 
continued : 

“ Only you must manage so as to eat less on the fol- 
lowing day, so that the loaf may last you for the week. 
System is necessary in eating as in everything else ; 
there is nothing so deceptive as the appetite, and at 
your age the eyes are bigger than the belly. Thirty- 
eight decagrams a day is about the quantity of food 
given in convents ; that will be your portion ; it is suf- 
ficient for a man, it should be sufficient for you, unless 
you are a glutton, a thing I would not endure.” 

As soon as I was alone I looked in the dictionary 
to find out how much a decagram was; it was ten 
grammes, or two drachms and forty-four grains. This 
conveyed no meaning either to my mind or to my 
stomach. 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


71 


I wanted to have the question settled and off my 
mind. Before leaving home my mother had given me 
a two-franc piece. I went to the baker’s across the street 
and asked him for thirty-eight decagrams of bread; 
after many calculations, he weighed me three-quarters 
of a pound of bread. 

Three-quarters of a pound ; this was the thirty-eight 
decagrams so generously allowed me by my uncle. In 
ten minutes, although an hour had not passed since 
breakfast, I had devoured the bread I had bought ; con- 
sequently I was less hungry than usual at supper that 
evening. 

“I knew very well,” said my uncle, mistaking the 
cause of the discretion with which I had cut a slice from 
my loaf, “ that that would restrain you. One is saving 
with what belongs to one’s self ; what belongs to others 
one is apt to squander. When you begin to have 
money, you will see that you will want to keep it.” 

I had thirty-five sous ; I did not keep them long. In 
a fortnight they were spent in buying a supplementary 
portion of twenty-five decagrams of bread daily. 

The regularity with which I went for this supple- 
mentary portion of bread as soon as my uncle left the 
house had brought about an acquaintance between the 
baker’s wife and myself. 

“Neither my husband nor I can write,” she said to 
me precisely the day on which my money was at an 
end, “ and we are obliged to give a written bill every 
Saturday to one of our customers. If you will write it 
for us, I will give you in payment for your work two 
stale cakes, which you can choose yourself every Mon- 
day morning.” 


72 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


You may judge with what eagerness I accepted this 
proposition. But how greatly I should have preferred 
a good pound of bread to the two cakes ! I did not 
dare to say this, however, for the baker’s wife, al- 
though she did not supply my uncle with the bread we 
used, which he ordered from the country, as he could 
buy it there a sou cheaper, appeared to know him very 
well ; and I was ashamed, on his account, to confess my 
hunger to one who was already only too disposed to 
look upon him with contempt. 

How was it that this portion of bread which was suf- 
ficient for a man was not sufficient for me ? It was be- 
cause ordinarily in convents and prisons there is added 
to the bread soup, meat, and vegetables, while with us 
it formed the principal part of every meal, the rest con- 
sisting of innutritions viands, the most substantial of 
which was a red herring, which invariably formed part 
of our breakfast. When my uncle was present we di- 
vided the herring between us, which does not mean 
precisely that we divided it into two equal parts ; when 
he was making his rounds I had orders to keep the half 
for the following day. 

One instance among many will give an idea of what 
I suffered from hunger at this epoch. 

At the rear of our house was a small yard separated 
by a hedge from the yard of the adjoining house. This 
house was inhabited by a Mr. Bouhour who, as he had 
neither wife nor children, had lavished all his affection 
upon animals. Among these animals, the one which 
held the highest place in his master’s affections, was a 
magnificent Pyrenean dog with white hair and a pink 
nose, called Pataud. As the confinement of a house 


ROMAIN KAL-BRIS. 


73 


was prejudicial to Patand’s health, they had built for 
him a pretty rustic hut against the hedge which sepa- 
rated the two yards, and as it was equally prejudicial 
to his health to eat at his master’s table, as this excited 
his appetite, and a diet of meat and dainties might give 
him some skin disease, they served him twice a day in 
his hut, in a fine china tureen, a mess of milk soup. Like 
all dogs that do not take exercise, Pataud had a slug- 
gish, or, at least, a capricious appetite ; and usually, if 
he breakfasted he did not dine, or if he dined, he did 
not feel disposed for breakfast, so that the soup often 
remained untouched. When I went out into the yard 
I could see through the hedge the pieces of white bread 
fioating in the milk and Pataud asleep beside it. There 
was a hole in this hedge of which Pataud often availed 
himself to come into our yard. As he had a well- 
founded reputation for ferocity, my uncle bore this in- 
trusion without complaining ; his presence was a better 
protection than that of the strongest bolt, and it had 
the advantage of costing nothing. Notwithstanding his 
ferocity, we were soon the best friends in the world, and 
whenever I went out into the yard he would immedi- 
ately run up to me to play with me. One day when 
he had carried my cap off to his hutch and refused to 
bring it back to me, I ventured to pass through the 
hole and go myself in search of it. The tureen was in 
its usual place and was full of rich milk. It was a Sat- 
urday evening; of my loaf, which I had not husbanded 
with sufficient care during the week, there remained 
only a crust about the size of an apple, which was to 
serve for my dinner. Hunger was gnawing at my vitals ; 
I knelt down until my lips were level with the tureen, 


74 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


and I drank a deep draught while Pataud looked at me, 
wagging his tail. Good dog ! he was my only friend, 
my only companion, during these hard times. He 
would come and rub his handsome pink muzzle against 
my face when I slipped through the hedge of an even- 
ing to get my part of his supper. He would stretch 
out his paw every now and then to caress me, while he 
looked at me with his large liquid eyes. A singular 
understanding existed between us ; he was undoubted- 
ly conscious of his protection, and undoubtedly he was 
happy in this consciousness. 

On what trifles do our destinies depend ! If Pataud 
had not been taken away from me, very probably I 
should never have gone in search of the adventures 
which I have undertaken to relate ; but the season ar- 
rived at which his master was accustomed to go to the 
country. He took him with him, and I was left alone 
with only my uncle’s company to cheer my spirit, and 
my regular portion of food to All my stomach. 

Those were sad days. I was often for whole hours 
at a time without occupation, when I would sit alone 
in the gloomy study and let my thoughts wander home- 
ward. At such times I would gladly have written to 
my poor mother, but a letter from Dol to Port Dieu 
cost six sous, and as I knew that all she earned was ten 
sous a day I did not dare to post every letter I wrote 
her. We limited ourselves to exchanging greetings 
through the medium of a flshmonger who came to Dol 
on market days. 

The supplementary food which I had obtained from 
Pataud had rendered me almost indifferent of late to the 
smallness of my regular portion ; now that I had only 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


75 


this I fancied that at times it was even smaller than 
usual. While my uncle’s loaf was under lock and key, 
mine was in a press which did not lock ; but as no 
stranger ever entered the house this seemed to me to 
be of no consequence. After a few days’ observation, 
however, I was obliged to acknowledge that I had de- 
ceived myself ; at the very instant when my uncle was 
going to cut a slice from my loaf I opened the door be- 
hind which I had been concealed. 

Indignation inspired me with a courage of which I 
had not thought myself capable. 

“ But, uncle, that is my loaf !” I cried. 

“ Do you think it is for myself that I am cutting 
it ?” he asked, composedly ; “ it is for the white cat ; 
she has had kittens, and you would not like to let her 
die of hunger, would you? We ought to be kind to 
animals ; never forget that.” 

I had never felt any affection for my uncle ; hence- 
forward I had for him a feeling of mingled contempt 
and repulsion — hypocritical, dishonest, cowardly, and 
heartless as he was, I felt humiliated at being his 
nephew. 

His chief trait was avarice — eagerness for gain. He 
was prodigal of his labor, insensible to privations, in- 
different to everything but money, restless and un- 
happy at the thought of an expense to come, inconsol- 
able for past expenses. 

To think of his avarice makes me smile now, but at 
that time it aroused in me that feeling of youthful in- 
dignation which makes us take tragically many things 
that in later life we are disposed to turn into a jest. 

He was, as you may suppose, the most negligent 


76 


EOMAIN KALBEIS. 


man in tlie world in matters of the toilet ; therefore I 
was greatly surprised one morning to see him simper- 
ing at his reflection in the large hall mirror. He put his 
hat on his head, looked at the effect, took it off and 
brushed it, put it on and looked at the effect again. 
What seemed strange to me was that he brushed the top 
of the hat the usual way and the bottom against the 
nap, so that one-half of the liat was smooth and the 
other half rough. I thought he must have lost his 
senses, for he had always taken the greatest possible 
care of his hat, even going to the extreme of never put- 
ting it on without flrst placing a band of old paper 
around his head under the brim to absorb the perspira- 
tion, if the weather were warm. This band sometimes 
served its purpose so well as to become wet through 
and adhere to the skin ; on which occasions, when he 
took off his hat to salute any one, it encircled his head 
like a crown, looking so comical as to provoke an irre- 
sistible burst of laughter, even from those who knew 
him — that is to say, who feared him. 

“ Come here,” he said, seeing me following his move- 
ments with my eyes, and look at me well. What do 
you think of my hat 

I thought all sorts of things of it, but this was not 
the occasion to give expression to them. I ventured to 
say: 

“ I think it is well preserved.” 

That is not what I asked you. Does it look like a 
mourning hat ? Is the rough part a good imitation of 
crape ? My brother Jerome, of Oancale, has just died 
and I must go to the funeral. The cost of the journey is 
enough without the additional expense of crape, which 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


77 


I could use only once, for I would never be foolish 
enough to go into mourning for a good-for-nothing who 
leaves only debts behind him.’’ 

Never was a laugh brought to so sudden a termina- 
tion as mine was. I did not know my uncle who had 
just died ; I only knew that he had always been unfort- 
unate, that he was a year older than my uncle Simon, 
and that consequently they had been comrades until 
the time when the business of life had separated them. 
1 returned to my work stupefied ; my ideas regarding 
family ties had received a rude shock. What, then, did 
brotherly affection mean ? What respect for the dead ? 

Nor were these the only ideas which in this daily in- 
tercourse were shaken, not by direct lessons, for my 
uncle troubled himself little to give me any such, either 
good or bad, but by example and by what I saw at 
every moment. 

Country bailiffs are either the confidants or the wit- 
nesses of all kinds of miseries. To his profession of 
bailiff my uncle joined that of 'sl banker, or, rather, to 
speak plainly, that of usurer ; so that the collection of 
unfortunates and knaves who passed through his office 
was remarkably complete. He and I worked at the 
same table, sitting opposite each other. I was thus 
present at all his interviews with his clients, and it must 
be a very serious matter indeed which would cause him 
to send me to take a run. Never have I seen him yield 
to a prayer for mercy, or consent to delay, or abandon 
a prosecution. To tears, entreaties, arguments, he re- 
mained as insensible as if he had been deaf. Then, 
when he began to get bored, he would take out his watcli 
and place it upon his desk. 


78 


ROMAIN KALBRI8. 


‘‘I can no more afford to lose my time than my 
clients can afford to lose their money,” he would say ; 

if you have anything more to say I am at your serv- 
ice, only I warn you that it will cost you four francs 
an hour. It is now a quarter past twelve. Go on.” 

The poor women I have seen weeping and praying, 
the men I have seen dragging themselves on their knees 
to ask for a little more time — a month, a week, a few 
hours — it would take too long to tell, and I only men- 
tion them now to show with what feelings I regarded 
my uncle. But if I was able to feel all the pitiless 
hardness of his character, and to be touched by the fate 
of his victims, I was happily incapable, from my age, 
of comprehending fully the adroitness, craft, and knav- 
ery, not to use a stronger word, which he practised in 
the conduct of his affairs. The first occasion on whicli 
I perceived them, for the thing was plain before my 
eyes, cost me dearly, as you will see. 

He had bought an old seigniorial property in which 
he was making important alterations for the purpose of 
rendering it saleable, and every Saturday we had work- 
men and builders coming to be paid. 

One Saturday the master-builder came into the of- 
fice where I was. He seemed surprised at finding me 
alone, for my uncle, he said, had made an appointment 
with him to settle his account. 

He sat down and waited. 

An hour, two hours, four hours passed, and still my 
uncle did not come. And the builder did not go.^ At 
last, at about eight in the evening, my uncle made his 
appearance. 

“Ah,” he said, “it is you. Master Kafarin. I am 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


79 


very sorry to have kept you waiting, but — business, you 
know.” 

My uncle had a habit which I have sometimes since 
seen practised by business people who wish to make 
themselves seem important, but who really only make 
themselves ridiculous. Instead of replying to Kafarin, 
he questioned me as to what had taken place during 
the day, read the letters that had come, ran over some 
legal documents, examined the work I had done, and 
when he had devoted a good half-hour to all this, turn- 
ing towards the builder who was still waiting, he said : 

Well, sir, what can I do for you?” 

“ You promised to settle my account to-day.” 

True, but I am sorry to say that I have not the 
money.” 

To-morrow is my pay-day. I have to pay, besides, 
a note of a thousand francs to your partner, who is 
dunning me. You have been promising to settle the 
account for the last six months. I relied upon your 
word to pay me to-day.” 

My word ! What word ?” cried my uncle. Did 
I say to you, I give you my word of honor to pay you 
on Saturday ? ’ I did not. Is it not so ? The promise 
you speak of, then, is no promise. Come Saturday and 
I will pay you. You see. Master Eafarin, there are 
promises and promises ; you must not forget that.” 

I did not know. Excuse me ; I arn only a poor 
man, but when I say I will pay Saturday, I pay.” 

“And if you cannot pay ?” 

“ When I promise to pay, I can pay ; and it is for 
that reason I trouble you now. Your partner has my 
word ; if I fail to pay him he will prosecute me.” 


80 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


Eaf arin then began to explain his position ; he had en- 
tered into engagements, counting on my uncle’s word ; 
if he did not pay on the morrow the bailiff would levy 
an execution on his goods on Monday; his wife was 
dangerously ill; that would kill her. To all this my 
uncle only responded : 

“ I have no money, my dear sir ; I have no money. 
You do not want me to steal money to give you. If you 
sue me there will be a lawsuit, and then you will not 
be paid for a year.” 

Four or five days before this I had been present at 
an interview between the other bailiff and my uncle, 
and I had heard the latter recommend his partner to 
push things to the last extremity. Without under- 
standing the whole truth, which I did not know until 
later, and which was that my uncle was the real credit- 
or, all this seemed to me strange, and I thought that 
I ought, even at the risk of rendering myself obnoxious 
to my uncle, to come to the assistance of the poor 
builder. I resolved, then, to interfere, cost what it 
might. When my uncle had repeated for the tenth 
time, ^^If I had the money I would give it to you,” I 
said aloud : 

have been paid some money.” 

The last word had scarcely crossed my lips when I 
received under the table so violent a kick that I lost my 
balance and fell forward, striking my face against my 
desk. 

What is the matter, my little Komain ?” said my 
uncle, rising from his chair. 

He approached me, and pinching my arm till the 
blood came, turned to Kafarin and said : 


EOMAIN KALBEIS. 


81 


How awkward the stupid little fellow is.” 

Kafarin, who had not seen the kick and who had not 
felt the pinchj looked at us both in surprise ; but think- 
ing that my uncle was seeking some pretext to change 
the conversation, he returned to the subject which 
troubled him. 

Since you have the money ” — he began. 

My exasperation was now at its height. 

“ Here it is,” I said, taking the bank-notes from the 
drawer in which they had been put away. 

Both men stretched out their hands at the same 
moment. My uncle, quicker than the other, seized the 
package. 

“ Listen, Kafarin,” he said, after a moment’s silence ; 
“ I am going to do what I can for you, to prove to you 
that an appeal to my generosity and my good faith 
is never made in vain, as some people would have it 
thought. Here are three thousand francs, which I did 
not expect to receive until to-morrow, and which I in- 
tended to employ in paying a sacred debt, which if I 
do not pay I may be dishonored, and which I shall 
not pay, for between now and to-morrow I would not 
be able to replace this money. But I am going to 
give them to you. Here, receipt your bill and take 
them.” 

I thought that Eafarin was going to throw his arms 
around the neck of my uncle, who, after all, it seemed, 
was not so bad as people thought. He did nothing of 
the kind. 

But my account,”- he cried, ‘^is for more than four 
thousand francs !” 

^^Well?” 


6 


82 


ROMAm EA.LBRIS. 


And you reduced it to that sum yourself by beat- 
ing me down in everything. Ah, Mr. Kalbris !” 

“ You do not want these three thousand francs then? 
Thanks, my dear sir ; they will be of service to me. I 
offered them to you to oblige you.” 

Eafarin recommenced his explanations, his entreat- 
ies ; then, seeing that my uncle remained impassive, he 
took the account and signed it. 

The notes,” be said, in a hollow voice. 

Here they are,” said my uncle. 

The builder then rose, and, putting his hat on his 
head, 

Mr. Kalbris,” he said, “ I prefer poverty like mine 
to wealth like yours.” 

My uncle turned pale, and I saw his lips tremble. 
He recovered himself immediately, however, and an- 
swered, in a voice that was almost cheerful : 

“ That is a matter of taste.” 

Then, still smiling, he accompanied Eafarin to the 
door, just as he would have accompanied a visitor. 

No sooner had the builder left the room than the 
expression of his face changed, and before I knew what 
he was about he dealt me a terrible blow which threw 
me from my chair to the ground. 

Now you and I must settle accounts,” he said. ‘‘1 
am convinced you mentioned that money, knowing well 
what you were about, you young rascal.” 

The blow had hurt me severely, but it had not stun- 
ned me. My only thought was how I might avenge 
myself. • 

It is true,” I answered. 

He \tas about to throw himself upon me, but I was 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


83 


prepared for this new attack. I got under the table 
and slipped out on the other side. 

When he saw that I had escaped him his anger knew 
no bounds. Seizing a large law book, called a Paillet^ 
he threw it at me with such force as to knock me 
down. 

As I felLmy head struck against the sharp edge of 
a piece of furniture. A feeling of general numbness 
took possession of me, and for a time I was unable to 
rise. 

I was obliged to support myself against the wall. I 
was bathed in blood, but my uncle looked at me with- 
out making a movement to come to my assistance. 

“Go wash yourself, you ungrateful little beggar,’’ 
he said, “ and remember what you have gained by in- 
terfering in my aflEairs. If you ever do so again I will 
kill you.” 

“ I want to go away,” I replied. 

“ Where to ?” 

“ To mamma.” 

“ Indeed ? Well, you shall not go, for you belong to 
me for five years to come, and I wish to keep you. ‘ I 
want to go to mamma, mamma, mamma.’ You big 
idiot.” 


YII. 

I HAD for a long time been tormented by an idea 
which recurred to my mind whenever I was hungry, 
or whenever my uncle treated me brutally — that is to 
say, every day ; it was to make my escape from Dol 


84 


KOMAIN KALBKIS. 


and go to Havre to ship as a cabin-boy. During my 
uncle’s absences I had often amused myself by tracing 
my itinerary on a large map of Normandy which hung 
over the staircase. As I had no compass I had con- 
structed one of wood, and I measured the distances be 
tween the various points as Mr. De Bihorel had taught 
me to do. From Dol, passing through Pontorson, I 
would go to sleep at Avranches ; from Avranches I 
would go to Villers-Bocage, from Yillers-Bocage to 
Caen, from Caen to Dozule, from Dozule to Pont- 
I’Evdque, and from Pont-l’Eveque to Honfleur. It was 
a journey of eight days. Bread cost, at that time, at 
the most, three sous a pound. If I could only save up 
eighty sous I was sure not to die of hunger on the road. 
But how could I get together eighty sous ? The seem- 
ing impossibility of doing this had always presented an 
apparently insurmountable obstacle to the carrying out 
of my plan. 

Paillet made me lose sight of this obstacle. Alone 
in my own room, after I had washed my head under 
the pump and stopped as best I could the flow of 
blood, I no longer saw the difficulties of my project. 
The mulberries were beginning to ripen along the 
ditches ; in the woods there were eggs in the birds’- 
nests. Sometimes one flnds a sou lying in the road ; 
and why should I not be lucky enough to meet with 
some wagoner who would give me a lift — perhaps a 
piece of bread for driving the wagon while he slept? 
Such things were not impossible ; they had happened 
before. In Havre I had no doubt but that any captain 
would take me on board as a cabin-boy. Once at sea, 
there was no more difficulty — I was a sailor. On my re- 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


85 


turn I would go to Port Dieu ; my mother would re- 
ceive me with open arms ; I would give her my pay. 
If I suffered shipwreck, why, all the better — a desert 
island, savages, a parrot, like Kobinson Crusoe ! 

I no longer felt the pain of the wound in my head, 
and I forgot that I had not Sined. 

Every Sunday at daybreak my uncle went to his new 
property and did not return until late at night ; so that 
from that day, which was Saturday, until Monday morn- 
ing, I had the certainty of not seeing him, and by run- 
ning away at once I had a start of thirty-six hours. 
Only to do this it would be necessary to go through 
barred and bolted doors, which was impossible. I de- 
cided, then, that I would lower myself down from the 
first story into the yard and creep through the hole in 
the hedge. Once in Mr. Bouhour’s garden I could easi- 
ly make my way into the fields. 

It was in my bed that I thought over and decided 
upon this plan, waiting until my uncle should be in 
bed and asleep to put it into execution. 

It was not long before I heard him go into his room, 
which he left again almost immediately, and I fancied 
I could hear him coming up the stairs, taking pains to 
make as little noise as possible. Had he suspected my 
plan, and did he wish to watch me ? He pushed my 
door gently open. As my face was turned towards the 
wall I did not see him enter ; but I saw on the wall the 
trembling shadow of the hand which he held before the 
candle to shade the light. He advanced on tiptoe to- 
wards my bed. 

I pretended to be sound asleep. I felt him bend 
over me, hold the light close to my head, and then 


86 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


separate carefully with, his fingers the hair which con- 
cealed my wound. 

‘^Pooh!” he said, under his breath, “this will be 
nothing.” 

And he left the room as softly as he had entered it. 

Had he shown as much interest as this the day be- 
fore it might, perhaps, have altered my plans; but it 
was now too late. I had inhaled, in imagination, the 
odor of the sea and the tar. I had pushed open the 
mysterious door leading to the Unknown. 

An hour after my uncle’s departure, when I thought 
he would be fast asleep, I arose and commenced my 
preparations — that is to say, I tied in a handkerchief 
two shirts and a few pairs of stockings. I thought for 
a moment of putting on the suit I had worn at my 
first communion, thinking it would give me an air of 
dignity. Fortunately, a gleam of common-sense made 
me reject this idea, and I decided upon wearing a good 
jacket and a pair of trousers of heavy sailor’s cloth ; 
then, taking my shoes in my hand so as to make no 
noise, I left the room. 

No sooner had the door closed behind me than an 
absurd idea came into my head. I went back into my 
room. Although there was no moon the night was not 
dark, and my eyes, habituated to obscurity, could dis- 
tinguish objects clearly. I placed a chair on my bed, 
and, climbing on it, reached up to the crocodile hanging 
from the ceiling, cut the cord that fastened it with my 
knife, and, taking it down in my arms, laid it full length 
in my bed and pulled the clothing over its head. 

As I pictured to myself the expression of my uncle’s 
face when he should find the crocodile in my place on 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


87 


Monday morning, I burst into a violent fit of laughter ; 
and my laughter broke forth afresh when the idea 
came into my mind that he might think it had eaten 
me up. 

This practical joke was my only revenge. 

It is wonderful what courage four walls and a roof 
above one’s head can give. When I found myself in 
Mr. Bouhour’s garden, after I had lowered myself from 
the window by clambering down the wall, I felt no 
inclination whatever to laugh. I looked anxiously 
around me. The bushes in the semi- obscurity of the 
night had strange forms. Among the shrubbery were 
large black spaces on which I did not like to let my 
gaze rest ; a light breeze passed through the branches, 
and the rustling of the leaves sounded like moans. 
Hardly knowing what I was doing, I crouched down in 
Pataud’s hutch. Poor Pataud ! If he had been there 
perhaps I should not have gone away. 

I had always thought myself brave; when I was 
conscious that my knees were bending under me and 
that my teeth were chattering, I could not help feeling 
ashamed. If I were already afraid I had better return 
to my uncle’s house. I left the hutch and walked 
straight to a tree which, with its great arms extended, 
seemed to say to me, You shall go no farther.” It 
remained motionless, but the birds that slept among 
its branches flew away twittering. I inspired other 
creatures with fear ; this gave me courage. 

I threw my bundle over the wall which separated the 
garden from the fields, and, aiding myself by the es- 
palier, climbed to the top. Far as my eyes could see 
stretched a level plain; it was deserted; not a sound 


88 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


was to be heard. I slipped down gently on the other 
side. 

I ran on for an hour without stopping, for I felt that 
if I gave myself time to look around me I should die 
of fright. At last I could run no longer, for want of 
breath. I was now in the midst of a meadow crossed 
by a dike which drained the water of the marsh into 
the sea. It was the haymaking season, and through 
the white mists I could discern the hay-ricks bordering 
the road. Without slackening my pace I left the high- 
way, and, going down into the meadow, I crouched 
under the hay. I knew I could not be more than 
two leagues from the city. I felt as if I were at the 
end of the world; I was once more able to breathe 
freely. 

Exhausted by so many emotions, dizzy from my 
wound, faint with hunger and fatigue, I lay down on 
the hay, which had retained the heat of the sun, and 
went to sleep, lulled by the croaking of innumer- 
able frogs that were making a deafening noise in the 
trenches of the marsh. 

I was awakened by the cold, the damp cold of early 
morning, which I had never before felt, and which 
pierces to the very marrow of the bones. The stars 
paled ; long streaks of white light crossed the faint blue 
of the sky, and a vapory mist rose up in smoke-like 
wreaths from the meadows. My clothes were as wet 
as if it had been raining, and I shivered from head to 
foot, for if the hay kept me warm on one side, the 
night dews cooled me on the other. 

But, what was more distressing than the cold, I ex- 
perienced a vague feeling of disquietude. Night is 


KOMAIN KALBEIS. 


the time for tender melancholy, morning for anxious 
thoughts and the pangs of conscience which, during 
the sleep of the body, awakes and makes itself heard. 
To be shipwrecked on a desert island did not now seem 
so delightful as it had seemed the day before. I should 
never return to my native place, then ; I should never 
see mamma again! My eyes filled with tears, and not- 
withstanding the cold I sat for a long time motionless 
on the hay, holding my head between my hands. 

When I raised my head my plans were changed. I 
would go straight to Port Dieu to see my mother once 
more before setting out for Havre. By entering the 
village in the evening I could hide in the cabin and 
depart again in the morning without any one suspect- 
ing that I had been there. At least I should carry 
away with me this souvenir ; and wrong as it might 
be to abandon my mother in this way, it seemed to 
me less so than to go away without seeing her at all. 

I took up my bundle. I had at least twelve leagues 
before me ; there was no time to be lost. Day would 
soon break ; already I could hear the faint twitterings 
of the birds. 

It did me good to walk; I felt less sad, less de- 
pressed than before. The rosy hue which diffused it- 
self through the east diffused itself also through my 
spirit, and the light of morning dispelled the gloomy 
and exaggerated shadows of the night from my mind 
as well as from surrounding objects. 

The mists floating in the atmosphere massed them- 
selves low over the dike, submerging everything in 
their cottony waves, save here and there some old 
pollard willow whose top pierced through them. The 


90 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


light that brightened the eastern sky turned yellow, 
then red, then diffused itself through the whole heavens, 
mounting up into the zenith ; a light breeze passed 
through the branches of the trees, shaking the dew 
from them ; the plants and flowers raised their heads ; 
a transparent mist rose swiftly from the earth ; it was 
day. When I was at Mr. De Bihorel’s I had often 
seen the sun rise, but I had never taken any notice of 
it ; now, however, as by my etnancipation I had become 
one of the lords of creation, I deigned to take a pleas- 
ure in witnessing this spectacle. 

But, lord of creation as I was, it was not long before 
I found that if Nature abundantly regaled my eyes, 
she had made very little provision for my stomach ; 
flowers were everywhere, fruits nowhere; perhaps, 
after all, I had been imprudent in depending upon 
chance for food. 

After walking for several hours, this doubt became a 
certainty. In the flelds there was nothing, absolutely 
nothing, that I could eat ; while in the villages through 
which I passed preparations were everywhere being 
made for Sunday; on the tables in the inns were joints 
of meat ; in the bakers’ windows were displayed large 
loaves of bread and lightly- browned cakes, still exhal- 
ing a pleasant odor of warm butter. When I looked 
at them my mouth watered and my stomach grew faint 
with hunger. 

Whenever an unhappy creditor tried to move my 
uncle to pity by saying that he was starving, my uncle 
never failed to respond : Tighten in your stomach.” 
I was simple enough to try this plan of assuaging the 
pangs of hunger ; but it is probable that those who rec- 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


91 


ommend it so confidently have never tried it them- 
selves, for when I had tightened the buckle of my belt, 
I found that I could scarcely breathe ; I suffered more 
from the heat, and I was as hungry as ever. 

I fancied that if I tried to divert my thoughts from 
the terrible hunger I felt I should suffer less from it, 
and I began to sing. The people who passed me on 
the road, dressed in their Sunday clothes, looked with 
astonishment at the boy walking slowly along, with his 
bundle in his hand, and singing with all his might. 

Singing did not avail me long, however ; my throat 
grew dry, and to the pangs of hunger were added those 
of thirst ; this necessity was easy to satisfy, for I fre- 
quently came across little rivers running towards the 
sea. 

I selected a very clean spot on the bank of the next 
one I came to, knelt down, buried my chin in the wa- 
ter and drank my fill, thinking, mistakenly, that pro- 
vided my stomach were full it did not matter much 
whether the contents were liquid or solid. I remem- 
bered that, during a fever I had had, I had remained 
for four or five days without eating — I had taken only 
drink, yet I was not hungry. 

A quarter of an hour later I was bathed in perspira- 
tion ; this was produced by the water I had drunk, to- 
gether with the excessive heat. I was seized with a 
great weakness, my senses began to fail me, and it was 
with diflBculty I succeeded in reaching a tree under 
whose shade I could sit down. I had never felt so faint 
before ; my ears buzzed, and I seemed to see every- 
thing through a red mist. I was near a village, in- 
deed, for I could hear the bells calling to mass. But 


92 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


what advantage was this to me ? I had not a sou to 
buy a piece of bread with. 

I must go on ; already the peasants passing by on 
their way to mass had begun to take notice of me and 
make remarks about me. I would have to tell where 
I came from, whither T was going ; they would take 
me back to my uncle ; this thought terrified me. 

When I was in some measure rested and refreshed, 
I resumed my way. The stones were very sharp, my 
legs very stiff, and the sun was burning. 

I knew that if I went on walking as I had done 
since morning I should soon fall down from exhaust- 
ion and be unable to rise again. I resolved, then, not 
to walk more than half a league without sitting down 
to rest, and to rest, in any case, whenever I felt faint. 

As I walked on, some lines which I had read while 
at Mr. De BihorePs recurred to my mind with irritat- 
ing and tiresome persistency : 

“Does God ever let his children want? 

The young birds he supplies with food; 

His care extends over all nature.” 

It seemed to me that I could not be of less value in 
the eyes of God than one of the little birds that were 
fiying about from branch to branch with joyous little 
cries. 

I had for a long time been mechanically repeating 
these lines, rather as a sort of music to which I kept 
step than a hope to be cheered by, when I approached 
tjie entrance to a wood, the first I had come to in my 
journey. All at once my attention was attracted to 
a bank crowned with yellow broom, where here and 


ROMAIN KALBEIS, 


93 


there among the grass glowed little red dots. Straw- 
berries ? — yes, they were strawberries. I forgot my fa- 
tigue ; at a bound I crossed the ditch ; on the other 
side berries grew as thick as in a strawberry bed; 
under the trees and in the glades they covered the 
ground like a red carpet. I have eaten larger and 
finer strawberries since then, but never better ones. 
They gave me strength, courage, hope ; yes, I could 
travel now to the end of the world. 

‘‘Does God ever let his children want?** 

Wild strawberries are not quickly gathered’; to pick 
them one Jias to go here and there, and to stoop down 
for every berry. When my hunger was somewhat ap- 
peased, if not satisfied, I set about gathering a supply 
for my journey. I thought that when I had eaten 
enough, of them I might perhaps exchange those that 
were left for a piece of bread. A piece of bread ; this 
was my dream. But time pressed ; it was past mid- 
day. I had five or six leagues still to walk before reach- 
ing Port Dieu, and I felt by my legs that they would 
be longer and less quickly got over than those I had 
already traversed. I could not fill my oak-leaf bor- 
dered handkerchief, then, as full as I wished, and I re- 
turned to the highway more cheerful and courageous 
than when I had left it. 

Fatigue, however, again soon overcame me, and, in- 
stead of walking half a league at a stretch, I sat down 
to rest by the way-side at every mile or so. The fa- 
tigue I felt must have betrayed itself in my appear- 
ance, for, as I was sitting on a bank, a fishmonger who 
was walking along the road leading his horses crossed 


94 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


over to the road-side, and stopping in front of me, 
looked at me. 

“ Here is a young man who is tired/’ he said. Is 
it not so ?” 

A little, sir,” I answered. 

“That is easy to be seen. Have you far to travel in 
this state ?” 

“ Five leagues more.” 

“If your way lies in the direction of Port Dieu, I 
am going there, and I can give you a lift.” 

The opportunity was not to be neglected. Summon- 
ing up what little strength and courage I had left, I said, 

“ I have no money ; but if you will take strawberries 
in payment, here are some that I have just gathered.” 

And I opened my handkerchief. 

“ How fragrant they are,” he said. “ So, my boy, 
you have no money,” he continued, changing his tone, 
and ceasing to treat me like a gentleman ; “ well, get up, 
all the same; you look very tired. You can sell your 
strawberries at the inn of Beau Moulin, and you can 
treat me to a drink as the price of your ride.” 

My poor strawberries ! They gave me six sous for 
them at the inn of Beau Moulin, and that only because 
my friend the fishmonger protested that it would be 
robbery to give me less. 

“ Now,” he said, when the bargain was concluded, 
“ a couple of drinks.” 

It was no time for delicacy. 

“ I would rather have a piece of bread,” I said. 

“Well, take a drink, all the same; if you are hungry 
you can take your part in bread when it is my turn to 
treat.” 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


95 


My part in bread ! I did not wait to be asked twice, 
you may be sure. 

Instead of arriving at Port Dieu in the evening, as I 
had calculated in doing, we arrived there before four 
o’clock — that is to say, at the hour when, my mother 
being at vespers, I could enter the house without being 
seen and take all the time I needed to settle myself in 
the cabin, which my mother scarcely ever entered. I 
found it just as I had left it, as it had remained ever 
since the time of my father’s death — full of his nets 
and fishing implements. They were as dry as cobwebs, 
and still preserved the odor of the tar and pitch. I 
kissed the nets and then took an armful of them to 
make myself a bed for the night. This done, and having 
arranged the window opening into the kitchen so that 
I could see without being seen, I sat down to wait. 

I had not remembered how fatigued I was ; scarcely 
had I settled myself comfortably when I fell fast 
asleep. It must have been long afterwards, for it was 
quite dark when I was awakened by the sound of 
voices. My mother was in the kitchen. Stooping 
down in front of the chimney-piece, she was blowing a 
few sticks, laid together, into a blaze. One of my 
aunts was standing near her, leaning against the wall. 

Then,” she was saying, you will go on Sunday ?” 

Yes, I am too lonely and then I can see with my 
own eyes how he is ; he makes no complaint in his let- 
ters, but I imagine he is unhappy.” 

“ You may say what you choose, but in your place I 
would not have given him to brother Simon.” 

I should have been obliged to let him go to sea if 
I had not done so.” 


96 


EOMAIN KALBKIS. 


Well, and what then?” 

‘‘What then? What has become of your eldest 
son? What has become of our brothers, Fortune and 
Maxime? What has become of my poor husband? 
What has become of the husband of Fran coise ? Look 
around you and see how many are missing. Ah, the 
sea !” 

“ I should be less afraid of it than of Simon ; he is 
not a man, he is a heap of money.” 

“And that is what deprives me of sleep at night, 
not so much for what the poor child may be suffering 
now as for what he may grow up to be under the 
influence of such a man. The Leheu brothers were 
speaking of him the other day; it seems that he is 
worth more than three hundred thousand francs. It is 
not by honest means that one can make such a fort- 
une as that in his business. Ah, if he had not taken 
Eomain for flve years !” 

“But must you leave him with him whether you 
wish to or not ?” 

“ If I take Eomain away he will be angry ; he will 
want to make me pay him an indemnity. Where should 
I get the money to do that? You don’t know him. 
At any rate, I shall go see the boy.” 

“Well, on Saturday evening I will bring you a pot 
of butter to give to him in my name ; most likely he 
is not any too well fed.” 

When my aunt went away, my mother set about 
preparing her supper. How the odor of the roasted 
potatoes recalled the old days when I used to come 
home ravenous from school ! 

She seated herself at the table in front of me, where 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


97 


the light fell full upon her face. The meal did not 
last long, although from time to time she would sit 
without eating, gazing into vacancy, as if her thoughts 
were far away ; at other times she would fix her gaze 
with a sigh on the place I had occupied opposite her. 
Poor mamma ! I can see her now with her kind face, 
so sad, but so sweet. It was of me she was thinking, 
it was for me she was sighing, and I was there only 
a few steps away, withheld from going to her by my 
fatal resolution. 

Always neat and orderly, she put back everything 
into its place, washed her plate, wiped the table, and 
then, kneeling down before the image of St. Komain, 
she began her prayer.- 

How often had we prayed together in that very 
place, at this very hour, that God would extend his 
protecting hand over my father. 

Listening to those fervent words which we had so 
often repeated together, I knelt down on the nets, and 
softly repeated them to myself. But this time it was 
not my father’s name that issued from my mother’s 
trembling lips, but mine. 

Ah, how was it that at this instant I did not spring 
to her side ! 


VIII. 

I FELL asleep with tears in my eyes. My sleep was 
less tranquil under the maternal roof than it had been 
the preceding night in the meadows of Dol. 

Before dawn, as soon as I heard the tide coming in 
7 


98 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


at the foot of the cliff, I stole cautiously out of the 
cabin. 

When I reached Port Dieu the preceding day, at 
four o’clock, the tide was beginning to go out ; I knew 
then, when I heard the tide coming in, that day would 
soon dawn, and I wished to avoid being seen by some 
early riser among the neighbors. 

When I had planned to go to sea, I had not taken 
into account how hard it is to leave the house where 
one was born. When I reached the furze hedge that 
separated our yard from the moor, I stopped, in spite 
of myself, and turned round. My heart beat to suffo- 
cation. The cock was crowing in our yard, and the dogs 
of the neighborhood, wakened by the noise of my foot- 
steps, were barking loudly. I could hear their chains 
clank at every tug they gave them in their efforts to 
spring after me. Day began to break, and against a 
narrow band of white light which shone above the 
cliff the house stood out darkly. 

My whole childhood, from my first day of conscious 
existence, came back to my recollection: the nights 
when my father would walk up and down the room 
with me in his arms, trying to quiet me by singing, 

‘‘The stones lie on the ground, 

Tira, lira — 

the first sea-gull I had caught alive, and which, with 
broken wing, came to eat out of my hand ; my moth- 
er’s anxious hours of wakefulness on stormy nights 
when my father was at sea, and my prayers, kneel- 
ing before the fiickering taper. The fears and the 
tortures I had seen her suffer she would suffer now 


KOMAIN KALBEIS. 


99 


again after my departure. Was it not a crime to aban- 
don her? 

The light in the light-house was extinguished, and 
the sea was gleaming brightly under the still dark sky ; 
from the chimneys of the village columns of yellow 
smoke curled upward, and the sound of sabots resound- 
ing on the stones of the streets reached me where I 
was ; the village was astir. 

Yet I still remained on the summit of the bank, 
crouched among the furze, hesitating, impatient, un- 
happy, dissatisfied with myself, and altogether wretch- 
ed. The spirit of adventure, the vague hope of mak- 
ing a fortune, of being independent, the bent of my 
nature, the mystery of the unknown, all drew me on- 
ward ; habit, the timidity natural to my age, the trials 
of the preceding day, and, more than all, the thought 
of my mother, combined to keep me at home. 

The sound of the angelus bell broke the silence. 
Before it had done ringing my mother pushed open 
the door and appeared upon the threshold ready to de- 
part for her day’s work. Was she going to the village 
to work or to the market-town, a place situated higher 
up on the plain and inhabited exclusively by farmers ? 
If she were going to the village, she would go down 
and away from me ; if, on the contrary, she were going 
to the town, she would pass close beside me, walking 
along the bank on whose summit I lay concealed. I 
had a moment of keen anxiety, for I felt my resolu- 
tion beginning to give way. Chance decreed that she 
should on that day work in the village, and I was not 
called upon to combat the temptation which impelled 
me to go and throw myself into her arms. 


100 


KOMAIN KALBEIS. 


When I heard the wicket fall back into its place, 
creaking, I rose from among the furze-bushes to follow 
her — at least, with my eyes. I could see nothing but 
the white gleam of her cap appearing and disappear- 
ing among the branches behind the hedge. The sun 
had risen above the cliff, lighting up the house bright- 
ly ; in its rays the mosses covering the thatch of the 
roof had a soft, velvety richness of coloring, and among 
thorn, here and there, bloomed tufts of yellow houseleek. 
A sea-breeze sprang up, diffusing through the pure 
morning air a salty freshness, whose odor I seem to in- 
hale, and whose pungent taste I seem now to feel upon 
my lips. 

But I must not allow myself to be carried away by 
those tender recollections. 

I left my mother’s house as I had left Dol — that is 
to say, running at the top of my speed. And it was 
only when breath failed me that I slackened my pace. 

If motion serves to distract one’s thoughts, it is in 
repose that one can best reflect. 

And I had need for reflection. I had started on my 
journey — so far, so good ; now the question was how 
to reach my destination. 

I sat down at the foot of a hedge. The plain was de- 
serted ; there was no danger of being surprised here ; 
no one was to be seen but, in the distance, at the edge 
of the cliff, a coast-guard on duty, whose flgure stood 
out blackly against the luminous background of the 
sunrise. 

The result of my reflections was that, instead of fol- 
lowing the highway, as I had at flrst intended, I fol- 
lowed the shore. My experience of the past two days 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


101 


had taught me that the highways offer slight hospital- 
ity to those who have not a well-filled purse, and my 
greatest anxiety was as to how I should be able to pro- 
cure food during my journey. A saying that I had 
often heard Mr. De Bihorel repeat — The sea is more 
productive for man than the land” — recurred to my 
mind, and I relied upon the shore to furnish me with 
food — oysters and mussels. When I thought of the 
oysters I must confess that my mouth watered, for it 
was long since I had eaten any. What a feast I was 
going to enjoy ! 

I rose to my feet. How many leagues was it to 
Havre, walking by the shore ? A great many, I sup- 
posed. But what did it matter ? A month’s march on 
the beach did not frighten me. 

I did not venture to descend immediately, however, 
for fear of meeting some one from Port Dieu who 
might recognize me. It was not until I had walked 
three or four leagues along the edge of the cliff that 
I summoned courage to go down to the shore to seek 
my breakfast. 

I found no oysters, and I was obliged to content my- 
self with the mussels which covered the rocks. My 
hunger being to some extent appeased, I would have 
continued my journey; but I was so happy at seeing 
the sea again that I amused myself running about on 
the sand and looking among the hollows of the rocks. 
I could jump and sing. What a contrast between this 
freedom and my imprisonment at Dol ! Decidedly it 
was much more amusing to travel. 

A pine board which I found wedged between two 
granite rocks completed my happiness. I made a boat 


102 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


out of it ; with my knife I gave it the requisite shape ; 
at a little distance from the middle, towards the prow, 
I cut a hole ; in the hole I stuck a hazel rod, which I 
secured in an upright position with splinters of wil- 
low; crosswise on this rod I fixed another rod; on 
this second rod I stretched my handkerchief, and I 
had a splendid frigate, to which I gave my mother’s 
name, and which, at low tide, with my trousers rolled 
up to my knees, I sailed in a large pool on the shore. 

Night overtook me while I was engaged in this oc- 
cupation ; it was necessary to look for a place of shel- 
ter. I chose a little grotto which the sea, during the 
fioods of the equinoctial storms, had hollowed out at 
the base of the cliff. Then I gathered a few armfuls 
of dry sea-weed and made myself a bed. It was not a 
palace, but it was better than the marsh at Dol. I was 
sheltered from the cold, and, better still, I was secure 
from discovery; I was provided with a comfortable 
pillow which I had made with large pebbles ; the lan- 
tern of the light-house opposite served me as a night- 
lamp, and took away the sense of solitude. I fell asleep 
as peacefully as if I had been within the walls of a 
house, and sailed all night in my frigate in dream-land ; 
after being shipwrecked on an island where six-pound 
loaves and mutton-chops hung from the trees, like ap- 
ples on apple-trees, I was made king by the barbarians ; 
mamma joined me ; she was made queen, and as we 
drank excellent sweet cider our subjects cried, The 
king drinks ! the queen drinks !” 

I was wakened before daybreak by hunger — hun- 
ger which gnawed at my stomach and made my heart 
sick. I was obliged to wait, however, until the tide 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


103 


went out, to gather my supply of mussels ; but the 
more of these I ate the hungrier I grew. My repast 
certainly lasted more than two hours, and when I 
stopped it was rather from fatigue than because my 
hunger was satisfied. I began to say to myself that a 
piece of bread with the mussels would be a very good 
thing. But how obtain bread ? 

Do not imagine, I beg of you, because I am always 
talking of bread, of hunger, of food, that I was a glut- 
ton ; I had simply the healthy appetite usual with boys 
of my age, and the question of eating — which in the 
circumstances in which I was, was the all-important 
question — became for that reason a very anxious one ; 
besides, those who think they know what hunger is by 
the agreeble sensations they feel when they sit down 
to a dinner delayed for an hour or so, know nothing 
of the matter; only those who, after long months of 
privation, have been for whole days with an empty 
stomach will be able to comprehend the vividness of 
my recollections. 

If the spot in which I had passed the night had 
produced oysters I might have remained there for 
some time longer, for it pleased me greatly because of 
the facilities it offered for sailing my frigate. I had 
been disturbed there by no one, and then the grotto, 
the light-house — all this attracted me. But hunger de- 
cided me to continue my journey ; perhaps farther on 
I should find something better than mussels. 

I dismounted the mast of my frigate, replaced the 
sail in my pocket, and abandoned my lodging. As ev- 
ery good traveller ought to do, I gave my shelter a 
name before quitting it — “ The King’s Grotto.” 


104 


EOMAIN KALBEIS. 


As I walked along the base of the cliff the idea of 
the piece of bread returned to me so persistently that 
I found it impossible to rid myself of it. On the way 
I came to a river, across which I was obliged to swim 
— that is to say, the water came up to my shoulders, 
and I carried my clothes on my head. This enforced 
bath made my stomach feel still more empty; my 
knees bent under me, and my sight grew dim. 

In this condition I drew near a village built in the 
form of an amphitheatre, on the sea-shore. I deter- 
mined to pass through it, hoping that I might not 
meet any one there whom I knew. When I reached 
the square near the church I could not resist the 
temptation of pausing before a baker’s shop. Large 
golden loaves of bread were displayed in the window, 
and from the door came a pleasant odor of flour and 
cakes. I was gazing at this spectacle, wondering if the 
attraction of my eyes would be sufficient to raise the 
loaves from their places and draw them to my mouth, 
when I heard a great noise in the square behind me, a 
sound of sabots and confused cries ; it was the chil- 
dren coming out of school. 

Was it because I was a stranger to them, or was it 
because there was something odd in my appearance — 
which is very possible, for with my frigate under my 
arm, my bundle in my hand, my shoes covered with 
dust, my hair bristling under my cap, I must have 
seemed a very curious little fellow — that they all gath- 
ered around me the moment they saw me ? The first- 
comers called the others, and I was soon surrounded 
by a circle of children, who examined me as if I had 
been some strange animal. 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


105 


My frigate, or rather the piece of wood which I dig- 
nified by that name, seemed to surprise them greatly. 
They discussed me among themselves. 

“Hey, Joseph, what is that he has under his arm?’' 

“ Don’t you see it is a board ?” 

“Ho ; it is a music-box.” 

“ A music-box, stupid ! he has no monkey.” 

Ho monkey ! They took me, then, for a Savoyard. 
My pride was hurt at this. 

“ It is a frigate,” I said, with dignity, taking a step 
forward with the purpose of making my escape from 
the circle which had drawn closer around me. 

“ A frigate ! What a fool he is. Look at the sailor.” 

I was stunned by all these cries ; the boys laughed 
and danced around me. 

I was trying to break through the band when I felt 
behind me one of the boys, bolder than his comrades, 
pulling at my frigate. At the same moment my cap 
was lifted from my head by another boy and tossed 
into the air. 

My cap, my beautiful dress cap ! I pushed aside 
those nearest to me to run after it, caught it as it fell, 
and crushing it down on my head went back to the 
crowd, clinching my fists and determined to be revenged. 

But at this moment a peal of bells rang forth from 
the belfry,' and all the children rushed towards the 
church porch, dragging me along with them and crying, 

“ See the christening !” 

The godfather and godmother were coming out of 
the church pwhen they had crossed the threshold the 
godfather, who was a handsome gentleman, put his 
hand into a large bag, carried by a servant who walked 


106 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


behind him, and threw a handful of lozenges among 
us. There was a scramble among the children, and be- 
fore they had risen to their feet the godfather made a 
second distribution. This time he threw not bonbons 
only ; good sous rolled over the stone pavement of the 
square. I saw one rolling towards me ; I stooped to 
seize it ; while I was picking it up a new distribution 
took place, and I had the luck to catch a ten-sou piece. 
Although it remained on the ground only a very short 
time, others besides myself had seen it. Furious at los- 
ing it, they threw themselves upon me, crying. 

He does not belong to the village ! It is not fair !” 

They trod on my fingers to force me to let go my 
prize; I held it all the tighter. Fortunately, the god- 
father had not yet emptied his bag, and the children 
left me to run after fresh distributions. 

I had twelve sous. I went into a baker’s shop and * 
asked for a pound of bread ; never did music sound 
sweeter to me than that made by the crust as the knife 
cut through it. Eavenously devouring my bread, I 
hurried out of the villiage ; all thought of revenge had 
vanished, and all I asked was to be allowed to escape 
from my tormentors. 

After walking for about two hours, I came to a de- 
serted guard-house, where I resolved to pass the night. 

I had often heard it said that the possession of 
wealth is inimical to sleep; this was realized in my 
case. I had made an excellent bed with a few arm- 
fuls of clover, but I slept very badly in it, perplexed 
by the thought of what I should do with my money. 
The pound of bread which I had bought for my sup- 
per had cost me three sous ; of my fortune, then, there 


EOMAIN KALBEIS. 


107 


remained nine sons. Was it better to live for three 
days on my little treasure, or to buy with it at once 
some articles which might serve to procure me food 
during my journey? This was the question which 
troubled me during the whole night. If I had had a 
vessel on the preceding day in which to cook my fish, 
I should not have suffered from hunger ; I would have 
eaten crabs and other shell-fish. If I had had a piece 
of twine half as long as my handkerchief, I could have 
caught as many shrimps as I wished in the pools. 

I decided, finally, in the morning, that at the first 
village I came to on the way I would buy a box of 
matches for a sou, some twine for three sous, and with 
what remained a tin saucepan in which to cook my 
fish. I must say, however, that what decided me on 
this wise course was not precisely its wisdom, but rath- 
er a desire to have some twine. Willow-branches would 
assuredly not serve to make sails for my frigate ; with 
three sous worth of twine I could rig it out very well, 
and the remainder would do to make a net. 

I bought the twine first and then the matches ; but 
with regard to the saucepan a difficulty presented it- 
self which I had not foreseen — the cheapest to be had 
cost fifteen sous. Happily I discovered one in a cor- 
ner, so dinted that it must have been thrown aside as 
not worth mending ; I asked if it was for sale, and the 
shopkeeper, to oblige me, as she said, consented to let 
me have it for five sous. 

On this day I made still less progress than on the 
preceding day, for as soon as I found a suitable place I 
spent my time in making a mast and a wooden net- 
block, and afterwards a net. Accustomed to this work 


108 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


from the time when I had first learned to use my 
hands it was only a pastime for me. I had the pleas- 
ure of eating for my dinner shrimps caught with my 
net and boiled in sea-water in my saucepan^ over a fire 
made from branches that I gathered among the 
bushes. 

But one is never completely happy. I had estab- 
lished my kitchen on the beach at the foot of a cliff, 
and the smoke, curling'upward, rose above its brow and 
attracted the attention of a coast-guard. I saw him 
lean over the edge of the cliff, looking for the origin 
of the smoke; he, withdrew without addressing me; 
but in the evening, when I was looking about for a 
place to sleep in, I saw him again at his post of obser- 
vation, and I fancied that he looked at me curiously. 
Decidedly I must be a real curiosity; and with my 
frigate on my back, my saucepan slung with my net 
across my shoulder, and my bundle in my hand, I was 
only too conscious that my appearance was not calcu- 
lated to inspire confidence. Already, on several occa- 
sions, in passing through a village, or when I chanced 
to meet some of the country people on the road, if 
they had not questioned me it was because I had hur- 
ried past them. What if the coast-guard should ask 
me what I was doing there ? What if he should arrest 
me ? I was seized with fear at this thought, and, to 
avoid him, instead of following the shore I plunged 
into the fields by the first road I came to ; his guard 
duty kept him on the cliff, and I knew that he could 
not follow me. 

If I had not the coast-guards to fear in the fields, 
neither, on the other hand, had I their sheds to shelter 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


109 


me. I was obliged to lie down under the open sky ; 
and what was most disagreeable was that I could not 
see even a group of trees. In the distance some hay- 
stacks stood out blackly against the crimson sunset. 
I should have to spend this night as I had spent the 
night in the marsh at Dol, I supposed. But it did not 
prove so bad. Some hay-forks had been left in the 
field ; I made with these a sort of roof resting against 
a hay-stack; above and around I heaped bundles of 
lucern, and in this species of perfumed nest I was well 
sheltered against the cold. 

The fear of being surprised here by the haymakers 
made me resume my journey as soon as the cool air of 
dawn and the cries of the birds awakened me. I was 
still terribly sleepy, and my legs were stiff with fa- 
tigue, but the chief thing was not to allow myself to 
be taken. I could sleep in the daytime. 

It was not my appetite, you may well imagine, but 
the tide that regulated the hours for my meals. I 
could dine or breakfast only when the tide was low 
and I was able to fish. As it was high tide at about 
eight o’clock I could not breakfast until noon, and even 
then I was obliged to content myself with the crabs 
which I caught as soon as the tide began to recede. 
So, in order not to be obliged to practise a similar ab- 
stinence in future, I resolved to lay in a supply of pro- 
visions beforehand, and, my repast finished, I began 
to fish for shrimps. I caught a large quantity of them 
— of the kind called in Paris bouquet ” — as well as 
three fine plaice and a sole. 

As I was returning to the cliff in search of a place 
where I could cook my fish, I saw a lady accompanied 


110 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


by two little girls, whom she was teaching to dig for 
shells in the sand with a wooden shovel. 

Well, my boy,” she said, stopping me, ^‘have you 
caught many fish 

She had beautiful white hair, framing a face lighted 
by large mild eyes ; her voice sounded almost like a 
caress. This was the first word indicating an interest 
in me which I had heard for four days. The little 
girls had fair hair and blue eyes, and were very pretty. 
I was not frightened, and I did not run away. 

^^Tes, madame,” I answered, and I opened my net, 
in which the shrimps were wriggling about with a lit- 
tle harsh noise. 

Will you sell me your fish the lady then asked. 

You may imagine whether or not I lent an ear to 
this proposition. Twelve-pound loaves danced before 
my eyes, and I snuffed in the odor of the well-baked 
crust. 

“ How much do you want for them she said. 

Ten sous,” I answered, at random. 

Ten sous ! The shrimps alone are worth at least 
forty. You do not know the value of your merchan- 
dise, my child. You do not fish as a business, then 2” 

“No, madame.” 

“Well, since you fish for pleasure, be so good as 
to accept in exchange for these shrimps this two-franc 
piece, and this other two -franc piece for your fish. 
Will you do so?” 

As she spoke she handed me the two coins. 

I was so astounded at the magnificence of this offer 
that I could not find a word to say in reply. 

“ Come, take them,” she resumed, to relieve me from 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


Ill 


my embarrassment ; you can buy something that you 
need with the money.” 

And she placed the two two-franc pieces in my hand, 
while one of the little girls emptied my shrimps into 
her basket and the other took my fish, which I had 
strung on a piece of twine. 

Four francs ! No sooner had my customers turned 
their backs upon me than I began to dance about for 
joy on the sand. Four francs ! 

A quarter of a league away there was a village. I 
bent my steps thither with the intention of buying a 
two-pound loaf. I was no longer afraid of soldiers, 
coast-guards, or rural constables. If I should chance 
to meet any of them I would show him my four 
francs. 

“ Let me pass,” I would say ; you can see that I am 
rich!” 

I met neither soldier nor coast-guard, but on the 
other hand I could not find a baker’s. I walked twice 
through the one street of the village ; in it were a cafe, 
a grocer’s shop, an inn, but no bakery. 

But I wanted bread, and it was not by listening 
to my coins jingling together in my pocket that I 
could console myself for not having it. I had lost my 
former shyness. The mistress of the inn was at her 
door, and I ventured to ask her where there was a 
bakery 

There is none in the village,” she answered. 

Then, madame,” I said, will you be so kind as to 
sell me a pound of bread ?” 

“We do not sell bread,” she replied; “but I can 
give you a dinner if you are hungry.” 


112 


ROMAIN KALBBIS. 


Through the open door came an odor of cabbage, 
and I could hear the pot boiling on the fire. My hun- 
ger could not hold out against this. 

What does a dinner cost I asked. 

A dinner of soup, bacon and cabbage, and bread, 
cider included, thirty sous.” 

This was frightfully dear ; but if she had said four 
francs I should have gone in all the same. She show- 
ed me to a low-ceiled apartment, and placed before 
me on the table a loaf of bread which weighed fully 
three pounds. 

It was this loaf which was my ruin. The bacon was 
fat ; instead of eating it with the knife and fork I 
made sandwiches with it and the bread, whose chief 
recommendation, in my eyes, was their thickness. I 
swallowed a first mouthful, then a second, then a third. 
How good it was ! The loaf had diminished noticeably. 
I cut another slice, saying to myself that this would be 
the last. But when I had finished it there was still a 
little bacon left. I returned to the loaf, of which I left 
finally only a very thin slice. After all, it was an 
unique occasion, and it was necessary to profit by it. 

I thought I was alone in the dining-room, but a con- 
fused noise behind me, like the sound of suppressed 
laughter, mingled with half-stified exclamations, made 
me turn my head. Through the glass of the door, of 
which the curtain was raised, the landlady, her husband, 
and a maid-servant were watching me and laughing. 

Never in my life did I feel so much ashamed. 

They entered the room. 

Has the gentleman dined well ?” said the landlady ; 
and their laughter began afresh. 


ROMAIC KALBRI8. 


113 


I was in a hurry to make my escape. I held out my 
two-franc piece. 

“ It is thirty sous for a man,” said the landlady, tak- 
ing the coin ; “ for an ogre it is forty, my boy,” and 
she gave me no change. 

I had crossed the threshold when she called me back 
again. 

Take care you don’t burst,” she said. Don’t 
walk too fast ; it might be dangerous.” 

Notwithstanding this advice I took to my heels, like 
a thief, and it was not until I was a good distance away 
that I slackened my speed. 

I was ashamed at having spent so much on a single 
meal, but physically I felt much the better for it; 
since I first set out on my journey I had never felt so 
courageous. 

I had dined well ; I had forty sous in my pocket ; 
the world, in short, was once more mine to conquer. 

Those forty sous, by husbanding them, would secure 
me bread for several days to come. I resolved, then, to 
abandon the shore and follow the route I had first 
traced out for myself across the Calvados. 

One difficulty, however, stood in my way. I did not 
know where I was. I had passed through several 
villages and two cities, but I was ignorant of their 
names. On a public road I should have had the mile- 
stones to guide me, but there are no mile-stones along 
the cliffs, and I did not dare to inquire the names 
of the villages or towns through which I passed. I 
thought that so long as 1 had the air of knowing where 
I was going no one would interfere with me, while if 
I asked my way I might be arrested. I remembered 
8 


114 


KOMAIN K.ALBEIS. 


very well the configuration of the Department of La 
Manche, and I knew, as it projects into the sea, that 
since I did not wish to follow the shore I must turn 
towards the east. But would this road lead me to 
Isigny or Vire? If to Isigny, I should strike the coast 
again ; that is to say, I would be able to procure fish; 
if to Yire, I should find myself in the midst of fields, 
without a hope of being able to replenish my stock of 
provisions when my forty sous should be spent. 

The question was a very serious one, and I was fully 
conscious of it. 

After hesitating for a long time, I determined to 
trust to chance, and I took the first road I came to, 
turning my back on the sea. My hope was in the mile- 
stones ; it was not long before I came upon one bear- 
ing the inscription : To Quetteville, 3 miles.’’ I had 
three miles to walk. At Quetteville I should know 
which road to take. At the entrance to Quetteville I 
saw on the corner of a wall, inscribed in white letters 
on a blue ground, the words : Public Road No. 9 ; 
from Quetteville to La Galianiere, 5 miles.” As I did 
not remember to have seen either of these names on 
the map, I stood still in the utmost perplexity. Where 
was I ? Lost ! 

I crossed the village, and when I was at a sufficient 
distance from it to be out of reach of inquisitive eyes 
I sat down on the step of a handsome granite cross by 
the way. It stood on the summit of a mound at the 
intersection of four cross-roads, and commanded a view 
of extensive wooded plains, where here and there rose a 
stone belfry. Beyond this was the line where sea and 
sky blended. I had been walking ever since morning ; " 


KOMAIN KALBKIS. 


115 


the sun was shining brightly, the heat was intense. I 
leaned on my elbow on one of the steps to reflect at my 
ease, and I fell fast asleep. 

When I awoke I felt that two eyes were looking 
fixedly at me, and I heard a voice saying : 

Don’t stir. ” 

As was natural, I paid no heed to the command con- 
veyed in these words, but rising to my feet looked 
around me to see which way I should turn to escape. 

The voice, which was at first gentle, took an impa- 
tient tone. 

Don’t stir, boy ; you will be an improvement to 
the sketch. If you resume your former position and 
keep quite still I ^ill give you ten sous.” 

I sat down again ; the person who spoke thus did 
not look as if he had any intention of arresting me. 
He was a tall young man, dressed in a gray velveteen 
suit ; on his head was a soft felt hat ; he was seated on 
a heap of stones, and a portfolio rested on his knees. 
I comprehended that he was drawing my portrait, or, 
rather, the landscape and the cross, since he had said 
I would be an improvement to the sketch. 

You need not shut your eyes,” he said, when I had 
resumed my former position, “ nor your mouth. What 
is the name of this place ?” 

I don’t know,” I answered. 

You do not belong to the place, then? But you 
are not a tinker, are you ?” 

I could not help laughing. 

“Don’t laugh, if you please. If you are not a 
tinker why do you carry that cooking apparatus on your 
back?” 


116 


ROMAIC KALBRIS. 


The questions had begun already ; but this gentle- 
man seemed the kindest man in the world ; I felt at- 
tracted to him; I was not afraid of answering him. 
I told him the truth: I was going to Havre; the 
saucepan was to cook my fish ; I had been on the road 
for eight days ; I had forty sous in my pocket. 

Are you not afraid of being murdered when you 
tell me you carry such a sum as that about with you ? 
You are a brave fellow, truly. Don’t you believe in 
brigands, then 

I laughed again. 

He continued to question me as he drew, and insen- 
sibly I came to tell him how I had been living since I 
had left my uncle’s house. 

^^Well, my boy, you can pride yourself on being a 
curiosity ; you began by committing a folly, it is true, 
but in the end you have got yourself well out of it ; I 
like boys of your style. Shall we be friends ? I have 
a proposal to make to you. I, too, am going to Havre, 
but I am in no hurry. I shall not arrive there be- 
fore a month, perhaps ; it depends upon the country 
through which I travel — if it pleases me I shall stop 
on the way to work ; if it has no interest for me I shall 
continue my journey. Do you wish to come with me ? 
You shall carry my bag there, and I will give you food 
and lodging.” 

Next day I had told him my whole story just as I 
have set it down here. 

"What a curmudgeon your uncle is !” he said, when 
I had finished my recital. Shall we go to Dol? 
You will show him to me, and I will make a carica- 
ture of him on every wall in the town. I will write 


EOMAIN KALBEIS. 


117 


underneath : ‘ Simon Kalbris, the man who starved his 
nephew.’ A fortnight afterwards he will have to 
leave the town. You do not want that? You prefer 
not to see him again. You are forgiving, and you are 
right. But there is one point in your history which 
I cannot let pass unnoticed. You wish to be a sailor ; 
very good. That is your vocation, it seems. That is all 
right, and it is not my place to seek to influence you 
in the matter, although, in my opinion, a sailor’s life 
is not a very enviable one — danger, toil, and little else. 
You are attracted by the heroic and the adventurous 
side of the thing ; very good again, if that is your idea. 
You follow the bent of your nature ; and although you 
are very young, perhaps the life you led with your 
uncle justifles you in doing so. But there is one thing 
which you have no right to do, and that is to afflict your 
mother. Can you imagine the grief, the anguish she 
has endured during the eight days that have passed 
since your uncle informed her of your flight ? Doubt- 
less she believes you dead. You must get writing ma- 
terials, then, from my bag, and, while I make a sketch 
of this mill, write to your mother all that you have 
just told me ; how and why you came to leave your 
uncle’s house, and all you have done since your depart- 
ure from it. You can say, too, that by chance — yes, 
you can say that by a happy chance — you met a painter 
called Lucien Hardel, who will take you to Havre and 
recommend you to a friend of his there who is a ship- 
owner, so that you may And a place on a vessel where 
you will have an easy voyage. When you have flnish- 
ed your letter you will see that your heart will be the 
lighter for it.” 


118 


ROMAIN KALBKIS. 


Mr. Lucien Hardel was right. I wrote a letter to 
my mother which I watered with my tears, but when 
it was done I felt my conscience more tranquil. 

Those days that I passed with Lucien Hardel were 
the happiest days of my travels. 

We walked along without any fixed route, stopping 
sometimes for a whole day in the neighborhood of a 
tree or a scene that he wished to sketch, sometimes 
marching for a whole day without pausing. I carried 
his travelling-bag, which was not very heavy, slung over 
my back like a soldier’s knapsack; often he took it 
from me on the road and carried it himself, in order 
to let me rest. It was my duty to buy every morning 
the provisions for the day — bread, hard-boiled eggs, 
some slices of ham, and to have a gourd which I car- 
ried refilled with brandy to mix with the water we 
drank. We breakfasted on the high-road seated at the 
foot of a tree, whenever we found one, and in the 
evening we supped at an inn. This meal did not now 
consist of shrimps or crabs, but of good hot soup ; I 
did not now sleep on hay, but between clean white sheets, 
and I undressed before I went to bed. 

My companion was surprised to find me not alto- 
gether a peasant ; I sometimes astonished him by what 
I had learned at Mr. De Bihorel’s. I knew more than 
he did about the* trees, the plants — that world of infi- 
nitely little things which very few have any knowledge 
of. We were seldom silent ; there was in him a charm 
of manner, a cordiality, which put one at one’s ease, a 
gayety which was contagious. 

Walking along in this way, wherever chance might 
lead us, we reached the suburbs of Mortain. This was 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


119 


hardly on the way to Havre, but I did not trouble my- 
self about that ; certain of reaching that port in the 
end, and of being able to ship on one of the numer- 
ous packets which sail between it and Brazil, it mat- 
tered little to me whether I delayed on the road or not. 

Mortain is assuredly, I will not say the most Nor- 
man, but the most picturesque canton of Normandy. 
Pine woods, gigantic rocks, precipitous cliffs, gloomy 
gorges, foaming torrents everywhere, rushing along 
among the trees or falling in cascades, and, finally, a 
vegetation of wonderful brilliancy and freshness make 
it a haunt dear to painters, who find there at every step 
subjects for sketches and pictures ready to transfer to 
canvas almost without altering a detail. 

Without establishing ourselves at any one point we 
made Mortain the centre from which we started on our 
excursions, going to Domfront, Sourdeval, Saint-Hil- 
aire-du-Harcouet, and Le Teilleul. While Lucien Har- 
del painted I fished for trout or caught crabs that had 
been stranded in the holes on the beach, for our supper. 

This was too happy a time to last; otherwise what 
should be an expiation would have been a reward. 

One morning when we were thus occupied we saw 
a gendarme coming towards us. At a distance his ap- 
pearance was not a little grotesque ; assuredly he had 
not been enrolled in the service on account of the dig- 
nity or the . elegance of his carriage. 

Quick to perceive the ridiculous in men and things, 
Lucien Hardel called my attention to the gendarme, 
of whose head he drew a rough sketch on the margin 
of the study he was making. 

The soldier had meantime approached us, and seeing 


120 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


that we were observing him, he had settled his hat on 
his straw-colored locks, drawn forward the belt of his 
sabre, and, slackening his pace, assumed a mincing 
gait. 

The pencil had followed his movements on the pa- 
per, and the result was a caricature that made me ex- 
plode with laughter. 

This did not please the gendarme, who came towards 
us. 

Excuse me,” he said, but you have stared at me 
long enough, and now I should like to see what you 
look like.” 

“ All right, gendarme,” said Lucien Hardel, placing 
the sketch in his portfolio, “ you need not be uneasy 
on that account ; I have looked at you — very well ; 
look at me in your turn, and then we shall be quits.” 

I don’t want any nonsense ; you know very well that 
it is y^ur passport I wish to see. It is my right and 
my duty to ask it from you, since I find you loitering 
on the high-road.” 

Without answering the gendarme, Lucien Hardel 
turned to me. 

Komain, take my passport out of the bag — it is 
there, in the compartment where the tobacco is — and 
hand it politely to the gentleman.” 

Then, turning towards the gendarme, 

‘‘ I should like, out of respect for your functions,” he 
said, ‘^to present it to you on a silver salver ; but when 
one is travelling, you know, one cannot have all one 
wants. That is the reason, too, why Eomain has not 
put on gloves ; but as you have none, either, we are 
once more quits.” 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


121 


The gendarme understood that this polite address, 
which at first he had listened to with a beatific air, 
was ironical ; he reddened, bit his lips, crushed his hat 
over his brows, and then, to cover his embarrassment, 
‘ he began to read : 

^‘‘We,’ etc., ^request the civil and military authori- 
ties to allow Mr.’ — hum, hum, — ‘Mr. Lucien Hardel, 
by profession a — a — ’ ” 

Here he came to a long pause ; then, suddenly, as if 
summoning up courage, he proceeded, 

“ ‘By profession a — landscape — landscape-painter, to 
come and go freely and without molestation.’ ” 

He muttered a few words, and then returned the 
passport to me. 

“It is well,” he said, majestically. 

As he was about to turn his back upon us — in a hurry, 
no doubt, to end a conversation which he found embar- 
rassing — Lucien Hardel, by an evil inspiration, stopped 
him. 

“ I beg your pardon, sir, but you have omitted to read 
the most important clause in my passport, the provi- 
sion on account of which alone I paid two francs for 
it without a murmur.” 

“ What is that ?” 

“That you should extend aid and protection to me.” 

“ What do you mean ?” 

“Well, will you tell me in what capacity I am au- 
thorized to loiter on the high-road ?” 

“In the capacity mentioned in your passport.” 

“ In the capacity, then, of landscape-painter ?” 

“ Doubtless, since that is your profession.” 

“How, will you tell me, if you please, what I am at 


123 


EOMAIN KALBKIS. 


liberty to do, and what I am prohibited from doing, in 
the practice of my profession 

“ Why, is it my place, then, to teach you your pro- 
fession 

My profession, no ; but the profession of a land- 
scape-painter. Come, understand me well ; for the offi- 
cers of the law I am a landscape-painter — I am, am I 
not 

‘^Eh— Yes.” 

^Wery well. A couple of leagues farther on I meet, 
let us say, one of your comrades ; he demands my pass- 
port ; I chance, perhaps, to be doing something just 
then which does not belong to my profession of land- 
scape-painter, and he arrests me.” 

Well 2” 

I must know, therefore, what I am allowed to do 
and what it is unlawful for me to do.” 

Large drops of perspiration coursed down the red 
face of the poor gendarme ; he saw that he was being 
laughed at, and he began to think that he must have 
given utterance to some piece of stupidity. Finally his 
anger got the better of his embarrassment. 

‘‘Do you think you will be allowed to go on annoying 
the authorities in this way, you with your long beard ? 
Come, no more talk ; since your profession is not your 
profession, there is something wrong, and since there 
is something wrong, I arrest you. Follow me to the 
Mayor’s office and explain the matter to him. And 
that one” — and he pointed to me — “who is not in the 
passport, we shall see who he is. Come, obey orders !” 

“ Then it is in my capacity of landscape-painter that 
you arrest me ?” 


EOMAIN kalbris. 


123 


arrest you because I arrest you. Am I obliged 
to give you a reason for what Ido? Come, obey orders, 
or I shall apprehend you !” 

Very well, let us go. If his Honor the Mayor at 
all resembles you the day will be complete. Take up 
the bag, Eomain, and come along. Gendarme 1” 

“ What is it you want ?” 

“Fasten my hands together and draw your sabre. 
Since I am to be arrested I want it done in good style.” 

I was far from sharing this merriment. I thought 
Lucien Hardel would have done much better to remain 
silent. ^‘And that one^ we shall see who he is^^ the gen- 
darme had said. These words rang in my ears. They 
were going to make inquiries, they would learn the 
truth, and without* doubt send me back to my uncle. 

Lucien Hardel walked on singing, 

*^The poor prisoner 
They were taking to be hanged.’' 

The gendarme followed him at a distance of a few 
paces, and I brought up the rear. It wanted nearly half 
a league to the village, and we were obliged to pass 
through a wood. Chance ordained that our path should 
lie straight before us, and that at this moment there 
should be no one in sight. We had scarcely advanced 
a hundred yards in the wood when, yielding to the im- 
pulse of my terror, I took a sudden resolution. Any- 
thing was better, I thought, than to be recognized and 
taken back to Dol. I had not strapped the bag to my 
back ; I held it in my hand. I gradually slackened my 
pace ; then, throwing the bag down on the ground, I 
cleared the ditch at a bound. 


124 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


At the noise made by the falling of the bag the 
gendarme turned around. I was already in the wood. 

Stop ! stop !” he cried. 

“ Don’t be frightened,” Lucien Hardel called to me. 

We are going to have a good laugh.” 

The only answer I made was, “My uncle! Good- 
bye!” 

And 1 plunged among the bushes. Was I followed ? 
I did not know. I ran on without stopping, heedless 
of the branches that struck against my face, the thorns 
that tore my flesh. I ran so madly that I did not per- 
ceive an inequality in the ground before me. Sudden- 
ly I felt the earth give way beneath my feet, and I fell 
head -foremost into a deep pit. There I lay, not be- 
cause I was hurt, but because I wa§ inextricably en- 
tangled among plants and brambles which grew so 
thick that I could not see the sky. An instinct like 
that of the wild animal chased by dogs guided me. 
Lying flat against the earth, drawing myself into as 
small a compass as possible, scarcely daring to breathe, 
I listened. Nothing was to be heard but the twitter- 
ing of the birds, flying away frightened, and the noise 
of the sand that, loosened by my fall, rolled down soft- 
ly around me, grain by grain, as if from an immense 
hour-glass. 

After a while, when I had the certainty that I was 
not pursued, I was able to reflect on my position. 

This is how I reasoned : when he had left Lucien 
Hardel at the Mayor’s office the gendarme would give 
the alarm to his comrades, and they would all set out 
in pursuit of me. If I did not wish to be captured, 
then, I must leave my hiding-place at once, in order to 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


125 


get the start of my pursuers. The thought did not 
even present itself to my mind that at the Mayor’s of- 
fice everything would be explained, that the painter 
would be set at liberty, and that we could continue our 
journey to Havre, as we had intended. I was in that 
frame of mind when we can take only extreme meas- 
ures, because they alone are in harmony with the ex- 
cited state of our feelings. Bather than be captured 
by the gendarmes and carried to Dol, I believe I would 
have passed through fire. I begged forgiveness, in- 
deed, in my heart from Lucien Hardel for having 
abandoned him, but was it not his absurd bantering 
that had rendered our separation necessary? 


IX. 

Two hours later I reached the outskirts of Sourde- 
val, but wishing to avoid observation, I made a detour, 
regaining the high-road leading to Vire at the other 
end of the town. 

The walk had calmed my agitation, but I was by no 
means reassured about the difficulties of my journey 
to Honfieur. I had not now my saucepan ; my little 
bundle had remained at Mortain, and in the fields I 
should find myself in the same position as on the first 
day of my fiight ; hunger had not yet made itself felt 
because I had breakfasted well, but it would not long 
delay. 

Add to this that I saw gendarmes everywhere and 
you will understand that I did not walk along very 


126 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


gayly. In the first place, I regretted my companion ; 
then, every hat, even every cotton cap which I saw in 
the distance, was transformed into a gendarme’s hat 
by my uneasy imagination. Before I had walked three 
leagues I had quitted the highway more than a dozen 
times to hide myself in the corn or among the bram- 
bles in the ditches. In jumping one of these ditches 
I fancied I heard a metallic sound in my pocket, like 
the jingling of sous. I searched my pocket ; they were 
indeed sous ; I counted them ; there were six, and, what 
was better still, among them were two two-franc pieces. 
On the previous day I had bought some tobacco for 
the painter, and this was the change I had received out 
of the five-franc piece. Ought I to keep it? But how 
return it? I made a promise to myself that I would 
not fail to do so if it should ever be possible. 

But large as my fortune was I did not allow it to 
turn my head ; after a few moment’s refiection I de- 
cided on the following course : I would continue my 
journey on foot, sleeping in the fields or in the woods, 
but I would not economize in my food. I could af- 
ford not to deny myself what was necessary. 

Although it was not quite dark when I passed 
through Yire, I lost my way in the streets ; instead 
of taking the road to Yillers-Bocage I took that to 
Conde-sur-Noireau, and it was only when I reached 
Chenedolle that I discovered my error. I had studied 
the map well enough to carry it in my head, and I 
knew that by way of Harcourt I could reach Caen. I 
did not trouble myself then on account of this detour, 
and I slept soundly in the shelter of a colza hedge. 
Two or three hundred paces from my resting-place I 


EOMAIN KALBEIS. 


127 


perceived a shepherd’s hut in the middle of a sheep- 
fold, whose peculiar warm, sweetish odor the breeze 
wafted towards me. This gave me the assurance that 
I should not be quite alone in the midst of those vast 
wooded plains, and that I should at least hear from 
time to time the barking of the dogs guarding the 
sheepfold. 

Lucien Hardel, when I told him of my journey along 
the sea-shore, had said that he regarded it as little less 
than miraculous that I had escaped the fevers caused 
by the chill air of morning ; so that when I wakened 
shivering under the shelter of the colza-branches I rose 
at once. It was not yet broad daylight, but dawn had 
already begun to whiten the tree-tops. The eastern 
horizon vras tinged with gold ; above my head the stars 
sparkled faintly in the pale, blue sky, and behind me 
stretched a vast black vault, across which wound slowly 
the gray mists rising up from the valleys. The dust 
of the road was as wet as if it had rained during the 
night, and among the branches of the trees the birds 
noisily shook the dew from their wings. 

I continued my journey for two days without meet- 
ing with any incident of importance ; but, as you may 
imagine, I did not walk all day from morning till night 
without stopping. At noon, and whenever I came to 
a suitable place, I slept for a few hours. 

On the third day after I had left Harcourt I arrived 
at a large forest, called the Forest of Cinglais. The 
heat, although it was still morning, was so overpower- 
ing that I resolved not to wait till noon for my nap. 
I had never before felt the heat so intense ; the ground 
scorched my feet. I plunged into the wood, hoping 


128 


ROMAIN KALBRI8. 


to find there a little coolness, but there, as well as on 
the highway, the air was scorching ; not the rustle of 
a leaf, not the twitter of a bird was to be heard ; all 
around reigned unbroken silence ; one might fancy that 
the fairy of the “ Sleeping Beauty ” had passed through 
the wood, touching with her wand the air, the animals, 
and the plants ; only the insects had escaped the uni- 
versal spell of silence; insects swarmed among the 
plants, and in the slanting sunbeams that pierced the 
dark foliage of the trees were to be seen swarms of 
buzzing insects whirling around, as if the intense heat 
had quickened their vitality. 

I threw myself down at the foot of a beech-tree, and 
resting my head on my arm for a pillow, was soon fast 
asleep. I was awakened by a sharp pain in my neck. 
I put up my hand and caught in my fingers a large 
yellow ant ; at the same time I felt another sting in 
my leg, then one on my breast, then a countless num- 
ber of stings in every part of my body at once. I un- 
dressed myself quickly and shook out from my gar- 
ments ants enough to people an ant-hill ; but this did 
not cure me of the stings the confounded insects had 
inflicted upon me. No doubt, like certain species of 
mosquitoes, they had left poison in the wounds, for I 
was soon tormented by an intolerable itching. Natu- 
rally, the more I scratched the more irritated became 
my skin. At the end of an hour my nails were stained 
with blood. 

If you have ever seen sheep in a meadow attacked 
before a storm by a swarm of flies and running hither 
and thither, rolling on the ground, or tearing their 
backs with the thorns, you can have some idea of my 


EOMAIN KALBRIB. 


129 


sufferings. I fancied that if I could get out of the 
forest I should suffer less; but the road seemed to 
lengthen out interminably, and still trees bordered the 
path on either side, and still the air was like the 
breath of a furnace. At last I perceived a small 
river winding among clumps of trees at the foot of 
a declivity. In ten minutes I had reached its bank ; 
in two seconds more I had undressed and plunged into 
the water. 

It was one of those cool green spots which are to be 
found everywhere in Normandy. The river, detained 
by the sluice-gates of a mill whose tick-tack could be 
heard not far off, flowed tranquilly through tall grasses 
that bent before the force of the stream. Through 
the crystal depths of the water gleamed the yellow 
sands below, with here and there a moss-covered stone. 
Groups of alders and aspens dotted the banks, in whose 
cool shade swarms of insects buzzed. On the river 
long-legged spiders glided among the water-lilies and 
the cresses ; above the blossoms of the meadow-sweet, 
the iris, and the wolf’sbane hovered blue -bottles and 
dragon-flies with gauzy wings. Wood-pigeons, startled 
by the noise I had made in plunging into the water, 
flew to the tops of the aspens and then fluttered down 
again, and, standing on the bank, dipped their heads 
into the water and shook out their ruffled plumage, 
cooing, while farther off the shyer kingflshers fluttered 
down, not venturing to approach when, swift as a can- 
non-ball, they passed through a sunbeam their azure 
plumage dazzled the sight. 

I would have remained there for hours, so grateful 

was the coolness of the water, but that suddenly from 
9 


130 


KOMAIN KALBKI8. 


the spot on the river-bank where I had left my clothes 
I heard a voice call out to me, 

“ Ah, brigand, so I have caught you bathing here 
again. Well, this time you will have to go to the town- 
hall for your clothes.” 

My clothes ! My clothes at the town-hall ! That is 
to say, my clothes on one side of the river and I on the 
other. I could not believe my ears. 

Stupefied, I looked to see who it was who thus ad- 
dressed me. It was a short, stout man who, from the 
river-bank, was shaking his fist at me. On the breast 
of his gray woollen blouse gleamed a badge, yellow as 
gold. 

The little man lost no time in putting his threat into 
execution. The word was immediately followed by 
the deed. 

He stooped down and hastily rolled my poor gar- 
ments into a bundle. 

Sir ! sir !” I shouted. 

All right,” he answered, at the town-hall.” 

I would have left the water and run to him to im- 
plore his pity, but the fear of his yellow badge and 
the consciousness of my nudity held me back. A con- 
stable ! A man who carried a sabre and who could take 
you to prison ! Besides, what should I answer if he 
questioned me ? ^ 

His bundle made, he took it under one arm, and ex- 
tending the other towards me threateningly, 

‘^Tou can give an account of yourself at the town- 
hall,” he said. 

And he went away. 

I was so confounded that I forgot to make the nec- 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


131 


essary movements to keep myself afloat, and naturally 
I sank. 

But I soon returned to the surface, and gaining the 
bank, hid myself, fllled with shame, among the reeds ; 
their flexible leaves bent over and sheltered me, at 
least, from view and from discovery. 

I did not need to reflect long to comprehend all the 
awkwardness of my position. How go to the town- 
hall in search of my garments ? And, then, where was 
this town-hall ? In the heart of the village, no doubt. 
How could I venture naked on the highway and in the 
streets ? 

How was the time for me to have imitated Kobin- 
son Crusoe; but in real life one does not get out of 
one’s difficulties so easily as in books. 

Since I had left Dol, however vexatious and annoy- 
ing the difficulties I had encountered, I had never be- 
fore been utterly discouraged. How, however, I gave 
myself up for lost. I felt completely overwhelmed, 
without power to will or to do, a prey to paralyzing 
despair. 

My tears flowed for a long time, but insensibly I 
grew chilled and began to shiver. Two hundred paces 
off the sun shone full upon the opposite bank, drying 
the moisture on the plants. There I could assuredly 
warm myself on the dry sand, but so great was my ter- 
ror that I did not dare to move. At last I was so 
thoroughly chilled that, summoning up resolution, I 
entered the water again and swam to the opposite 
bank. This bank rose at least six feet above the level 
of the water. It was hollowed out at its base, and 
from its summit trailed bind- weed and hop-vines inter- 


132 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


laced. It was not without much difficulty and many 
scratches that I succeeded in reaching it. 

The sun soon warmed me; but with warmth came 
back vitality, and with it a gnawing hunger. What to 
eat? With my garments the constable had taken 
away my little store of money. 

Time passed, and no way presented itself to my mind 
of extricating myself from the position in which I was. 
Above me, a few steps away, I could hear at distant in- 
tervals the rolling of wheels along the road ; but what 
help could come to me from that quarter ? How could 
I abandon my place of concealment in the condition in 
which I was ? I might, perhaps, have contrived some 
sort of a garment out of leaves, reeds, or straw, but the 
idea of doing so did not even occur to me. 

The sun was beginning to decline in the west. I 
was not to spend this night in the open air under the 
shelter of a hay-stack, protected from the cold by my 
clothes. Naked, on this sandy strip of land, what was 
I to do ? Looking at the current flowing ceaselessly 
past, I had become dizzy ; I fancied I saw around me 
already the noxious animals that prowl about in the 
night. 

It was about an hour before sunset when I heard on 
the road the noise of vehicles passing one after another. 
Suddenly the noise ceased ; they had stopped just be- 
hind me. From my hiding-place I could not see the 
road, but by the noise of chains and other iron objects 
striking together I comprehended that horses were be- 
ing unharnessed. A sort of roar or bellow, a cry which 
I had never heard before, louder than the neighing of 
a horse, deeper than the braying of an ass, broke on 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


133 


the air, and the birds already perched among the 
bushes for the night flew away screaming ; a large rat 
sprang between my legs and hid himself in his hole, 
the entrance to which I obstructed. 

After a few minutes I fancied I could hear the sound 
of steps in the meadow above me ; I was not mistaken. 

I have caught a hen said a voice. 

“ Where did you get it 

I knocked it on the head on the road with a stone 
fastened to the end of my whip, as if it had been a flsh 
in the water; it was only the others that screamed out.” 

‘‘We must have it cooked.” 

“ If Cabriole should see us he will fllch it from us, 
and we will have nothing but the bones left.” 

This dialogue was not very reassuring ; but precisely 
for this reason it inspired me with a boldness that I 
should not have had with honester people. 

I clung with both hands to the bank, and, passing my 
head between the stalks of the hop-vine, I raised myself 
up so as to be able to look into the meadow. 

The two speakers, who from their hoarse, cracked 
voices I had taken to be men, were boys of about my 
own age. This gave me renewed courage. I raised 
myself a little more. My resolution was taken. 

“ If you please,” I called out. 

They turned around and stood for a moment ap- 
parently uncertain as to whence the voice had pro- 
ceeded, for my head only emerged from the foliage, 
and, frightened as well as surprised, they did not know 
whether to advance or to run away. 

“ Oh, look at that head !” said one of them, perceiv- 
ing me. 


134 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


A ghost !” said the other. 

Fool ! didn’t you hear him speak ?” 

At the same instant I heard a deep voice, coming 
from the direction of the high-road, saying, 

“ Come, idlers, cut some grass, I say.” 

I turned my head, and saw, standing in a row, three 
long wagons painted red and yellow. It was a travel- 
ling show. 

“ Cabriole ! Cabriole !” cried the two boys. 

‘‘Well?” 

“ There’s a savage here. Come and look at him ! It’s 
a fact.” 

Cabriole walked towards the meadow. 

“ Where is your savage ?” he said. 

“ There among the leaves.” 

They all three approached, and, looking at me, burst 
out laughing. 

“ What language does your savage speak ?” asked the 
man whom they called Cabriole. 

“ French, sir,” I interposed. 

And I told them of my adventure, which they evi- 
dently found more amusing than I had done. They 
laughed as if they would split their sides. 

“ La Bouillie,” said Cabriole, turning to one of the 
boys, “ go look for a pair of trousers and a blouse for 
him.” 

In less than two minutes La Bouillie had returned. 
I lost no time in dressing myself, and then jumped on 
the bank. 

“Now,” said Cabriole, “let us go see the master.” 

He led me to the foremost wagon, to which I ascend- 
ed by some wooden steps. Seated in front of a stove. 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


135 


on which simmered a stew, was a shrivelled-np little 
man and beside him a woman of proportions so enor- 
mous that I was frightened. 

I had to relate my adventure again, and it was again 
received with shouts of laughter. 

So you are going to Havre to ship for a sailor 
said the little man. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“And how are you going to pay me for my trousers 
and my blouse ?” 

I was silent for a moment. Then, summoning all 
my courage, I said, 

“ I will work for you if you will let me.” 

“ What can you do ? Can you make your head touch 
your heels ?” 

“No.” 

“ Can you swallow a sword ?” 

“No.” 

“Can you play the trumpet, the trombone, the 
drum ?” 

“ No.” 

“ Then what is it you can do ?” he said. “ Tour edu- 
cation has been singularly neglected, my boy.” 

“A poor acquisition; he is made like everybody 
else,” said the giantess, examining me from head to 
foot, “ and he talks about working in the ring !” 

She shrugged her shoulders and turned away from 
me with a look of contempt. Ah, if I had only been 
a monster ; if I had had two heads or three arms ; but 
to be made like everybody else — how shameful ! 

“ Can you take care of horses ?” asked the little man, 
without heeding the woman’s words. 


136 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


Yes, sir ; I can try.” 

^^Well, there is always that to do. From this day 
you belong to the menagerie of Count Lapolade, as 
celebrated for the beauty of the animals belonging to 
it as for the courage of the illustrious Dielette — Die- 
lette, our daughter, who has tamed them. Follow 
Cabriole — he will show you what there is to do — and 
come back to supper in an hour.” 

In the situation in which I was I could not choose 
my occupation. I must not be too hard to please. I 
accepted as a favor the strange resource which was 
ofiered to me. 


X. 

Here I was, then, a mountebank, or, to speak with 
more modesty, the hostler of the menagerie of Count 
Lapolade. 

My master was not, as one might justly think, an 
imaginary count. He had perfectly-authenticated doc- 
uments, that he willingly exhibited on great occasions, 
which gave him the right to bear that title. After a 
life agitated by every vice and every passion he had 
come to this. To crown his degradation he had, at a 
time of supreme need, married the giantess who had 
accorded me so ill a reception. Celebrated at every 
fair in Europe under the name of the ^^Big Borde- 
laise,” although she was a native of Auvergne, she had 
occupied in her youth the exalted position of phe- 
nomenon — that is to say, of giantess. One picture 
represented her in a pink gown, delicately balancing 


EOMAIN KALBKIS. 


137 


her immense leg, covered with a white stocking, on a 
tahouret ; another showed her wearing a blue velvet 
spencer with a foil in her hand, a brigadier of carabi- 
neers much shorter than herself before her, with the 
words underneath in letters of gold, ‘‘ At your service, 
brigadier.” 

She had earned at this occupation a considerable 
sum of money, which had tempted the cupidity of 
Lapolade. The latter had for his sole fortune his tal- 
ent as a speaker. This talent was' remarkable ; no one 
in the circus could equal him in making a speech at 
the door to draw a crowd. His reputation equalled 
that of Mangin or Turquetin. The Big Bordelaise” 
and he had entered into a partnership, and this worthy 
couple had bought a menagerie which, in the begin- 
ning, had rivalled that of the celebrated Huguet \ie 
Massilia. But the source of Lapolade’s strength was 
also that of his weakness ; his mouth cost him dear ; 
he was both a drunkard and a glutton. 

Some of the animals, ill-cared for and worse fed, had 
died, and others had been sold ; and at the time of my 
entrance in the menagerie it was composed only of an 
old lion, two hyenas, a snake, and a learned horse, that in 
the daytime drew a wagon and at night told which was 
the most stupid person in the company. 

At supper I made the acquaintance of the human 
members of the show. Besides the count and Madame 
Lapolade, it was composed of Cabriole the clown. La 
Bouillie, the other boy I had seen with him, who was 
called Filasse, two Germans, one of whom, named Her- 
man, played the clarionet, while the other, who was 
named Carolus, played the drum ; and finally the illus- 


138 


EOMAIN KALBKIS. 


trious Dielette, a little girl eleven or twelve years old, 
in appearance frail and nervous, with large blue eyes 
of the color of the periwinkle. 

Although I was only a servant I was admitted to the 
table of these illustrious personages. 

The word table is not perhaps the exact word by 
which to designate the object on which our meals were 
served ; it was a large pine- wood chest which occupied 
the centre of the wagon ; it served a triple purpose : its 
interior held the costumes ; its top at meal- times sup- 
ported our plates, at night a mattress, on which Die- 
lette slept ; on either side of this chest were two nar- 
rower ones ; these served the members of the troupe as 
seats, for only the count and Madame Lapolade had 
chairs. 

With all this this compartment of the wagon had a 
cheerful air, and there are many Parisian apartments 
that have not so large "a dining-room. A glass fold- 
ing-door opened on an exterior gallery, and through two 
little windows draped with red curtains could be seen 
the trees on the road. 

I had to tell my whole story again, which I did 
without, however, mentioning the real names of either 
my mother, my uncle, or my native village. When I 
reached the episode of the gendarme Dielette declared 
that I was a simpleton ; that in my place she would 
only have laughed. The two musicians approved of 
this boldness, not in words — they never spoke — but by 
three successive bursts of laughter, in chorus — that loud 
laughter peculiar to the Bavarians. 

After supper was ended, there still remained some 
hours of daylight. 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


139 


Come, my children,” said Lapolade, “ let ns profit 
by the daylight that remains to practise gymnastics a 
while ; we must not let our muscles grow stiff.” 

And he took up his position in the exterior gallery, 
where Dielette brought him his pipe, which she had 
lighted for him, while Filasse and La Bouillie took from 
the wagon and placed on the grass by the way-side a 
small box with a cover. Filasse then unfastened his 
blouse, and, after stretching his arms and his legs and 
shaking his head as if he wished to shake it off, he 
removed the lid from the box, into which he slipped, 
disappearing completely from view. I was amazed, 
for the box was so small that I should not have thought 
it could hold a child a year old. 

It was now La Bouillie’s turn ; notwithstanding all 
his efforts he could not succeed in getting into the 
box ; from the gallery above Lapolade gave him a vig- 
orous lash with his whip. 

“You have eaten too much again,” he said; “to- 
morrow I will put you on diet.” 

Then turning to me : 

“ Come, it is your turn,” he said. 

I took a few steps backward to get out of reach of 
the whip. 

“ In there ?” I said. 

“ Not yet, my boy ; first let us see what you can do 
by jumping across that ditch there.” 

The ditch was broad and deep ; I jumped two feet 
farther than was necessary. Lapolade showed him- 
self satisfied, and declared that I would succeed on the 
trapeze. 

The first wagon was reserved for the exclusive use 


140 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


of the proprietors; in the second the animals were 
confined ; the third served as a dormitory for the com- 
pany and a place of storage for the properties. As 
there was no room for a bed for me inside the wagon, 
they gave me a couple of bundles of straw with which 
I made one underneath it. 

Although this bed was better than any I had en- 
joyed for some nights past, it was long before I slept. 
The lights were extinguished ; the noises ceased ; soon 
no sound was to be heard in the profound stillness of 
the night but the stamping of the horses harnessed to 
the wagons, tugging at their tether to crop the dusty 
grass around them on the way-side. From time to time 
from the menagerie came the deep breathing of the 
lion, sighing profoundly, as if the silence and the heat 
of the night recalled to him his African solitudes, and 
occasionally, too, I could hear him lashing his sides im- 
patiently with his tail as if a gleam of courage, pierc- 
ing through the abject subjection of his will, had sug- 
gested to him the thought of revolt and liberty. 

He was in a cage securely fastened, but I was free 
and unfettered. For a moment I thought of profiting 
by this freedom to continue my journey ; but I should 
have had to take with me the garments given me by 
Lapolade. This would have been to steal them. Then, 
in my own mind, I ratified the engagement I had en- 
tered into to serve rny new master. After all, he 
could not be harder than my uncle, and the day on 
which I should have paid him by my work for what I 
owed him I should be free. 

The caravan was on its way to Falaise, to the fair of 
Guibray ; there it was that for the first time I saw Die- 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


141 


lette enter the lion’s cage and heard Lapolade address 
the audience. 

The costumes had been unpacked. Didlette had put 
on over her tights a silver robe spangled with gold; 
on her head was a wreath of roses ; my comrades, Fi- 
lasse and La Bouillie, were dressed as red devils ; the 
two Germans, as Polish lancers, with plumes that fell 
down over their eyes ; as for me, they had stained my 
arms, as far as the elbow, and my face and neck black. 
I played the part of a slave who had come from Africa 
with the lion, and I was forbidden to utter a single 
word in French. To every question I must content 
myself with answering by a smile, which would dis- 
close my teeth. My mother herself, if she had seen 
me, would not have recognized me. This was what 
Lapolade had especially desired, not knowing but that 
there might be some one from my native village 
among the crowd. 

For two hours past we had been making a din suf- 
ficient to drive a deaf man wild. Cabriole had finished 
his part ; Dielette had danced a round with La Bouillie, 
and Lapolade now appeared on the platform in the 
costume of a general. We had attracted an immense 
crowd ; my eyes were dazzled by the whiteness of the 
cotton caps that covered the Norman heads stretched 
towards us. The general made a sign. The music ceased. 

Then, leaning towards me, and handing me the cigar 
which he had been going to smoke : 

Amuse yourself with this,” he said, “while I go 
and make my speech.” 

I was looking at him in wonder when I received a 
kick from behind. 


142 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


What a fool the blackamoor is cried Cabriole ; “ the 
master oflEers him a cigar and he is too dainty to take it.” 

The public deigned to find this jest very witty, and 
laughed and applauded loudly. 

I had never smoked. I did not even know whether 
it was necessary to draw in my breath or to puff it out, 
but this was not the moment to enter into explana- 
tions. With one hand Cabriole pulled down my chin ; 
with the other he pulled up my nose, and Lapolade 
thrust his cigar into my open mouth. My grimaces 
must have been very comical, for the villagers had to 
hold their sides with laughter. 

The general raised his plumed hat. Silence was re- 
stored. 

^^Tou see before you,” he began, ‘‘the celebrated 
Lapolade. Who is Lapolade? That charlatan in a 
general’s uniform ? Himself. And why, you ask your- 
selves, does so illustrious a man dress in so ridiculous 
a fashion? To please you, my masters, and because if 
you are all in private life sensible people assembled 
together in public you are only fools.” 

There was a movement of dissatisfaction among the 
crowd, accompanied by some murmurs. 

Lapolade, without losing his self-possession, took his 
cigar from me, gave a few puffs and then, to my de- 
spair and disgust, put it back between my lips. 

“ Hey, you below there !” he continued ; “ yes, the 
man with the cap with the tassel and the red nose, 
what are you muttering about? Is it because I said 
that at home you were a sensible man, and in the pub- 
lic square a fool? Well, I apologize : at home you are 
an impostor, and here you are a sly dog.” 


KOMAIN KALBKIS. 


143 


The crowd stamped with delight. When the excite- 
ment had calmed down a little, he resumed : 

‘‘ Besides, if I were not disguised as a general, in- 
stead of staying here to look at me with gaping 
mouths, and eyes as round as marbles, you would all 
have gone on your own way. 

“But I know humanity; I know how easily it is 
caught by clap-trap. For that reason I went to Ger- 
many for these two illustrious musicians you see here; 
for that reason I engaged for my company the cele- 
brated Filasse, with whose fame you are undoubtedly 
acquainted. La Bouillie, whom you see, and, finally, the 
wonderful Cabriole, of whom I shall say nothing since 
you have already heard him. All this awakens your 
curiosity, and you say to yourselves, ^ What is going 
on at that show V 

“ Now messieurs the musicians will give us a little 
music.” 

The whole of this discourse, which he varied accord- 
ing to the place and the audience, I could give you 
word for word, for it has remained stamped upon my 
memory. It is strange how certain absurdities will fix 
themselves on the mind at the very age when it is 
most difficult for useful things to take root in it. 

I have a distinct recollection, however, of the early 
part, only, of this day. The smoke of the cigar had 
sickened my stomach, and I was in a veritable state of 
hallucination and stupor when I went into the booth. 
In accordance with the duty which had been assigned 
me, I was to open the cages when the time came for 
Dielette to enter them. 

It was through a sort of mist that I saw her come 


144 


EOMAIN KALBEIS. 


towards me. In one hand she held a whip, with the 
other she was sending kisses to the audience. The hy- 
enas were walking around in their cages with a slow 
and halting step. The lion, his head resting on his 
paws, seemed asleep in his cage. 

Open the door, slave,” she said to me. 

Then she entered. The lion did not stir. Taking 
his ears between her little hands she pulled them with 
all her strength, to make him raise his head. Still he 
did not stir. She grew impatient and struck him on 
the shoulder with the whip. As if he had been moved 
by a spring he raised himself on his two hind-legs, ut- 
tering so terrific a roar that I felt my knees tremble 
under me. Terror, combining with the qualms of my 
stomach and the giddiness produced by the cigar, 
which made me fancy that everything was whirling 
about, inside and around me, caused me to lose con- 
sciousness, and I fell senseless to the ground. 

Lapolade was a shrewd man, and knew how to turn 
the most trifiing incidents to his advantage. 

.“You see how great is the ferocity of this beast,” 
he said, “ when his very roar causes the children of his 
native land to swoon !” 

My indisposition was so evident that the public, con- 
vinced that this was no prearranged scene, broke into 
prolonged applause, while Cabriole lifted me in his 
arms and threw me behind the shed as if I had been 
a bundle of rags. 

During the entire performance I remained there, 
horribly ill, incapable of moving, although sensible of 
what was going on around me — of the roaring of the 
lion, the cries of the hyenas, the bravoes of the crowd. 


EOMAIN KALBEIS. 


145 


T]ien I heard the stamping of the people leaving 
the booth, and a few minutes later I felt some one 
pull me by the arm. It was Dielette ; she had a glass 
in her hand. 

^^Here, drink this,’’ she said; ‘4t is a glass of 
sugar and water. It was stupid of you to be fright- 
ened on my account, but all the same you are a good 
boy.” 

It was the first time she had spoken to me since my 
entrance in the company. This mark of sympathy did 
me good ; I felt less lonely. Filasse and La Bouillie 
had joined together to play all sorts of tricks upon me, 
and I was glad to have an ally. 

On the following day I would have thanked her, 
but she turned her back upon me and refused to listen ; 
nor did she bestow upon me another word or look. I 
was obliged to give up my ideas of friendship. I had 
enough, then, of this life where kicks were showered 
upon me, and as I began to think that by taking care 
of the horses and cleaning the cages of the animals in 
the daytime, and playing the part of a blackamoor at 
night, I had well earned the poor linen trousers and 
the blouse which had been given me, I resolved to 
abandon the caravan and continue my journey to 
Havre. Poor mamma! Was it to join a travelling 
show that I had left her? Ah, if she could see me 
now ! If she but knew the truth! 

The season was advancing ; the nights were growing 
cold ; the days were often rainy ; it would soon be im- 
possible to sleep in the fields without shelter. I must 
make no delay in putting my plan into execution, the 
more especially as when we left Guibray we should 

10 


146 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


proceed in the direction of the Loire, and thus increase 
the distance between us and Havre. 

As I did not wish to risk the journey, however, with- 
out making such preparations as were possible, I stored 
away all the crusts I could economize from my food, 
and employed my leisure time in making shoes out of 
old boot-legs. My plan was arranged. The first night 
after the caravan started I would run away. 

The day before the one fixed for the departure of 
the caravan I was engaged in my task of making shoes 
when Dielette surprised me. 

You want to run away,” she said, in a low voice. 

I made a gesture of denial. 

^^For a week past I have been watching you,” she 
said; ^^you have hidden some bread under the hay, 
and you have not done so without some object ; but 
do not be afraid, I will not betray you, and if you like 
I will run away with you.” 

Leave your father!” I said, in, the tone of one who 
knows what it is to abandon one’s parents. 

My father 1” she repeated. ‘‘ Those people are not 
my parents. But they may surprise us here. Go wait 
in the fortifications. I will try to join you there. If 
you are a good boy you will help me, and I will help 
you.” 

I had been walking for more than two hours among 
the trenches without seeing any signs of Dielette, and 
I was beginning to think she had been amusing herself 
at my expense when she made her appearance. 

Let us go yonder and hide among the hazel-bushes,” 
she said ; we must not let them see us together or 
they will suspect something.” 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


147 


I followed her, and when we had plunged into a 
thick grove of hazel-bushes and alders, where we were 
completely hidden from view, she stopped. 

“'In the first place,” she said, “I must tell you my 
history ; that will make you understand why I want 
to run away.” 

Although we were about the same age, Dielette, in 
speaking to me, assumed the air of authority which 
grown people use with children, and I did not under- 
stand why, since she was so self-confident, she had 
need of the aid of one so helpless as I ; but as I had 
conceived a lively sympathy for her, and as, above all, 
she was mistress of my secret, I made no objection and 
entered at once upon my role of confidant. 

“ Lapolade is not my father,” she continued ; “ my 
father I never knew ; he died while I was still an in- 
fant. My mother kept a mercer’s shop in Paris, near 
the Market. I do not remember either my mother’s 
name or the name of the street in which we lived. 
All I remember is that mamma was young and beau- 
tiful, and that she had luxuriant fair hair, so long 
that when my brother and I played on her bed in the 
morning we could hide ourselves in it as we would in 
a bush. 

“ She loved us dearly ; she lavished caresses upon us, 
and she never beat us. My brother was a year older 
than I ; his name was Eugene. A great many wagons 
passed through our street. In the morning heaps of 
cabbages, carrots, and vegetables of all sorts lay on the 
sidewalks, and from the street door we could see the 
gilt clock of a tall church opposite. Above the church 
rose a slender tower, and on this tower long black arms 


148 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


moved back and forth all day. When I spoke of this 
last year to a clown belonging to Masson’s troupe, who 
had come from Paris, he told me that the church was 
the Church of St. Eustache, and that the large black 
arms belonged to a telegraph post. 

‘^As mamma worked all day she hardly ever went 
out with us herself, but sent us out walking with an 
apprentice. One summer day — I know it must have 
been summer, for the weather was warm and there 
was a great deal of dust in the streets — she took me to 
a fair where spice-cake was sold ; this is a fair which 
is held at the Barrier du Trone ; you must have heard 
it spoken of since you joined the caravan. I do not 
remember why my brother was not with us, but at all 
events he had stayed at home. 

It was the first time I had seen clowns and they 
amused me greatly. I wanted to go into all the booths ; 
but the apprentice had no money, and I had only four 
sous, which had been given me to buy cakes with ; 
she took them from me and we went into a side-show.” 

What is that ?” I asked. 

“ How stupid you are ! If you don’t know what a 
side-show is, what do you know ? Well, it is a booth 
where a phenomenon is on exhibition — a giantess, liv- 
ing seal, or the like. 

In this booth there were two seals in a tank. I 
don’t know how it happened, but the apprentice entered 
into conversation with the man in the booth ; he did 
not take his eyes off me, and he said that I was very 
pretty. He left the booth with us and we went to a 
wine-shop, where we were shown into a little dark room 
where there was no one but ourselves. I was tired 


ROMAIC KALBRIS. 


149 


and warm, and while they drank sweetened wine out of 
a punch-bowl I fell asleep. 

When I awoke it was almost dark and the appren- 
tice had disappeared. 

I asked the man where she was ; he answered that 
if I wished we would go to her. I went with him. 
There were a great many people on the sidewalks, the 
booths were all brightly illuminated, and the musicians 
were playing everywhere. He took me by the hand 
and dragged me along quickly. 

“Soon we got out of the crowd. We were on a 
broad road, bordered on either side by trees ; the lights 
had almost all disappeared, and only now and then was 
a house to be seen. 

“ I began to be afraid. The man saw that I resisted his 
efforts to drag me along ; he proposed to carry me, but I 
refused ; he tried to take me in his arms, but I screamed. 
Some soldiers were passing along ; they stopped. 

“ ^ What are you screaming for V he said to me. ‘We 
are going to your mamma.’ 

“We resumed our tramp. The road seemed much 
longer now than it had seemed in going to the fair, and I 
did not recognize it. We passed by high gloomy walls 
and a large gate, before which some soldiers were on 
guard, and entered a wood that seemed to have no end. 
I was now terrified and stood still. 

“ ‘ Come along, you little plague,’ said the man, in 
his deep voice, ‘ or I shall settle with you.’ 

“ No one was in sight. He dragged me along by 
force, and I went with him. What else could I do ? 
Ton know I was only five years old; I was not at all 
courageous, and then I thought of mamma. 


150 


EOMAIN KALBEIS. 


I don’t know how long he made me walk in this 
way, only I was very tired when we came in sight of 
the lights of a village. In a square at the entrance 
were some wagons, belonging to a travelling show, 
drawn up against the wooden fence. We entered one 
of these wagons. We were received by a woman with- 
out legs, who was drinking brandy. 

He whispered something to her, and they both 
looked fixedly at me. 

“ ^ Don’t you see,’ said the woman, ^ that she has a 
mark on her cheek V 

This mark was a little pink strawberry, here where 
there is a little hollow. 

/‘‘No matter,’ said the man, ‘we can soon make it 
disappear.’ 

“ Terror again took possession of me, and I asked 
where my mamma was. 

“ ‘ She will come to-morrow, dear little heart,’ said 
the woman. ‘ To-night you must be good and go to 
bed.’ 

“ ‘Perhaps she is hungry,’ said the man. 

“ ‘Well, we will give the little darling something to 
eat.’ 

“ It was then I perceived that the woman had no 
legs. She moved along turning from side to side, sup- 
porting herself on her hands. This astonished me 
greatly, and did not tend to reassure me ; but as she 
gave me good things to eat — green pease, just from the 
pot — I ate a hearty supper. 

“ ‘ She is a good little thing,’ said the old woman, 
seeing that I devoured the pease, which had neither 
salt nor butter, ‘ and not hard to please in her food.’ 


EOMAIN KALBEIS. 


151 


She did not know that this was a luxury which 
was forbidden me at home, as the doctor allowed me 
to eat only roast meats on account of my delicate 
health. 

You must go to bed now/ she said, when I had 
finished eating. 

‘^And she drew aside a curtain made of ticking, 
which concealed the other end of the wagon ; behind 
it were two beds. 

It was certainly very amusing to go to bed in a 
wagon. I slept soundly. 

“ When I awoke I thought I was still dreaming, for 
the bed seemed to be dancing. I felt myself swaying 
from side to side, and I heard a noise of bells and the 
clanking of chains. Above my bed was a little win- 
dow through which the light entered. In the distance 
I could see a river fiowing through a meadow. I com- 
prehended that my bedroom was moving, and I then re- 
membered where I was. I began to cry, ‘ Mamma ! 
mamma!’ A deep voice which I did not recognize 
answered, 

^ We are going to her.’ 

“ I was greatly terrified, and I screamed louder than 
ever. 

Then a man whom I had not seen before entered 
the room ; he was very tall, and his head, which was 
covered with a policeman’s cap, touched the roof of the 
wagon. • 

‘ If you scream I will kill you,’ he said to me. 

“You may imagine how I screamed then, but he 
came towards me holding out his arms ; I thought he 
was going to strangle me, and I tried to stifle my cries. 


152 


EOMAIN KALBEIS. 


As soon as lie had left the wagon I looked around 
for my clothes, so that I might dress myself. I could 
not find them, and not daring to ask for them I re- 
mained in bed. 

The wagon rolled on for a long time, sometimes 
over paving stones, sometimes over sand ; through the 
window I could see that we were passing through vil- 
lage streets ; at last it stopped, and the woman without 
legs entered. 

“ ‘ Mamma ! Where is mamma V I asked her. 

“ ^ Presently, little heart, presently,’ she responded. 

“ She spoke gently. This encouraged me. 

^ I want to get up,’ I said. 

‘ That is what I was going to propose to you ; here 
are your clothes,’ she answered. 

, “ And she showed me an old frock. 

^ That is not my frock,’ I said. 

‘ It is the one you must put on,’ she returned. 

“ I felt like tearing the old frock to pieces instead 
of putting it on, but the woman without legs looked at 
me so meaningly that I obeyed. 

‘‘ When I was dressed in this ugly garment the wagon 
stopped and the woman without legs told me I might 
get out. We were in the midst of an extensive plain, 
and around us, far as the eye could reach, stretched 
green fields. The man in a policeman’s cap had lighted 
a fire on the high-road, over which, suspended from 
three sticks fastened together, hung a pot. I was very 
hungry, and I was glad to hear the pot simmering. 

“ The woman without legs had remained in the wag- 
on ; the man went over to it, lifted her up in his arms, 
and set her on the road. 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


153 


‘ The mark/ she said, looking at me. 

‘^‘Ah, you are right; I had forgotten it/ he an- 
swered. 

And the bad man took me between his knees, press- 
ing me close against him and holding my arms so tight- 
ly that it was impossible for me to move. The woman 
without legs then held up my head with one hand, and 
with a pair of scissors, which she held in the other, cut 
the strawberry from my cheek. 

“The blood gushed forth, filling my mouth and 
staining my frock. I thought she was going to kill 
me, and I began to utter terrified shrieks, trying at the 
same time to bite her. Without heeding my struggles 
she put something on my cheek that burned it and 
stopped the blood. 

“ ‘ Let her go now,’ she said to the man. 

“ She thought I was going to run away. No, in- 
deed ; I threw myself on her striking her with all my 
might. 

“ I think she would have strangled me if the man 
had not caught hold of me and thrown me into the 
wagon and shut the door upon 'me. 

“ They kept me all day without food ; it was even- 
ing before they opened the door. My first word was 
to ask for mamma. 

“ ‘ She is dead,’ said the woman without legs. 

“ I had been thinking all the time that I was shut 
up alone in the wagon. 

“^It is not true; mamma is not dead. Ton are a 
thief !’ I cried. 

“ She began to laugh, which exasperated me. 

“For three weeks or a month I remained with the 


154 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


woman without legs and the man with the policeman’s 
cap. They had thought to tame me, as wild animals 
are tamed, by hunger, but they could not succeed in 
doing so. When I was hungry I did all they wished, 
blit as soon as I had satisfied my appetite I was as re- 
bellious as before. The woman without legs knew well 
that I would never forgive her for the operation she 
had performed on my cheek, and she sometimes de- 
clared that she was afraid of me, that she thought I 
was capable of stabbing her. 

We had now arrived in a place the name of which 
I did not know, but where bread was called ^ hrod^ and 
where there were a great many rivers ; here, seeing that 
they could do nothing with me, they sold me to a blind 
man, who was no more blind than you are, but who 
pretended to be so for the purpose of begging. All 
day long I was obliged to stand on the bridge holding 
out my hand. Fortunately, he had a poodle dog that I 
played with in the evenings at home. If it had not 
been for this I should have died of grief. 

had no talent whatever for begging, and as I 
would not annoy the people who gave me nothing by 
running after them, crying, I was beaten every day. 
Tired at last of beating me the blind man resold me 
to a party of travelling musicians, for whom I took up 
the collection while they played. 

“ How many countries we travelled through ! I have 
been in England, and also in America, where it is so 
cold that they drive about in wagons without wheels 
that glide along over the snow. One must sail across 
the seas to get there, and the voyage lasts more than a 
month. 


KOMAIN KALBEIS. 


155 


“ The musicians sold me, in their turn, to Lapolade 
when we came back to France. He bought me to per- 
form on the trapeze, and while I was learning I fed the 
animals. At this time we had three lions; one of 
them, that had been very vicious before, became quite 
gentle with me. When I carried him his dinner he 
would lick my hands. 

“ One day, vexed because I could not execute a dif- 
ficult feat, Lapolade gave me a beating. I screamed as 
loudly as I could. This scene took place in front of 
the cage of my lion ; angry at seeing me beaten, the 
friendly animal stretched his paw through the bars, 
and, clutching Lapolade on the shoulder, drew him 
towards him. Lapolade tried to get away, but the lion 
had dug his claws into the fiesh and held him firmly. 
If they had not come with iron bars to his assistance 
Lapolade would never have got away alive. 

‘‘It was two months before he recovered from his 
wound, but this suggested to him the idea of making 
me go into the cages. ‘ Since the lions are friendly to 
you,’ said Madame Lapolade, ‘ they will not try to hurt 
you ; and if they do, the big lion will protect you.’ 

“ I liked this better than performing on the trapeze, 
and it is since that time that ‘the illustrious Dielette 
has tamed by her charms the ferocious children of the 
desert,’ as Cabriole says. He is a fool with his ‘ fero- 
cious children of the desert;’ they are gentler than 
dogs. Ah, if my poor old Eougeaud were not dead 
you should see ! I used to put the three lions into the 
same cage. I would strike the other two with all my 
might with my whip, and when they would begin to 
growl and grow angry I would say to Eougeaud, ‘ De- 


156 


EOMAIISr KALBRIS. 


fend me !’ He would immediately place himself before 
me, roaring so terrifically that the earth shook. Then 
I would pretend to faint ; he would lick my face ; they 
would open the grating, and he would carry me to it in 
his mouth. If you could have heard the people ap- 
plaud ; and the bouquets and the cakes and the kisses 
of the beautiful ladies ! 

had so much success that Lapolade received an 
ofier to go to Paris. Fancy if I was pleased ! At Paris 
I was sure that I could run away and go to mamma. 

But just as we were going to start Kougeaud fell 
sick ; it was winter, and he was constantly shivering 
with cold. Ah, I took good care of him ; I even lay 
down with him under his covering. He died, though, 
all the same. 

I had never had so great a grief ; they thought 
I was going to die of it. The caravan did not go to 
Paris, and I had to give up the hope of finding my 
dear mamma. 

“ I have often since then thought of running away, 
but alone I had not the courage ; and I have no confi- 
dence in Filasse or La Bouillie. You are not one of 
these people. Will you help me to find mamma ? You 
shall see how rejoiced she will be, and how she will 
embrace you.’’ 

But Paris was not Havre, and I in my turn related 
my history to Dielette. 

^^Come to Paris, all the same,” she said; mamma 
will pay your expenses to Havre, and we will take you 
there.” 

I tried to make her understand how difficult it would 
be for us to provide for our necessities on the journey 


ROMAm KALBEIS. 


157 


to Paris. What should we eat? Where should we 
sleep ? 

“ I have seven francs and eight sous,” she said ; “ they 
will buy food for us ; we can sleep in the open air ; if 
you are near me I shall not be afraid.’’ 

This mark of confidence, so fiattering to my pride, 
decided me at once; and then Dielette was a girl 
whom one could not resist, and she had a way of look- 
ing at you with her large blue, eyes, full of nfiingled 
timidity and boldness, innocence and experience, sweet- 
ness and severity, that admitted of no refusal. 

It was agreed, then, that we should abandon the car- 
avan as soon as it reached Orleans. 

Until we arrive there,” she said, I will not speak 
to you before other people ; you are too innocent ; you 
would betray yourself.” 

I made a grimace ; she saw that I was not greatly 
fiattered by this compliment. 

“ Shake hands with me,” she said ; “ it is because you 
are innocent that I trust you.” 


XI. 

It was Saturday, market-day, and the streets were 
full of country-people. On the great sc^uare, which I 
was crossing on my way to the wagons, I came across 
Filasse and La Bouillie standing watching Turquetin, 
who, to the sound of a big drum, was drawing teeth 
with such rapidity that they went fiying through the 
air as if he were playing bones. 


158 


ROMAIC KALBEIS. 


Still a young man, Turquetin had not then attained 
the reputation which thirty years’ battling with Nor- 
man teeth, more industrious than sound, have since so 
deservedly earned him ; but even at that time his 
skill, and still more his wit and good-humor, had ren- 
dered him popular throughout the western part of 
the country ; a dense crowd had gathered around his 
wagon. 

A poor gymnast. La Bouillie was a very skilful jug- 
gler, and he delighted to practise his art, playing jokes 
of a more or less serious nature upon the country-peo- 
ple. When I saw him among the crowd around Tur- 
quetin, I knew well he was there for some mischief, and 
I stayed to see what trick he was up to. Only as he 
had more than once reaped blows for his reward at this 
sport, I prudently held aloof. 

It was well for me that I did so. 

On this particular day the trick of my two compan- 
ions consisted in abstracting their snuff-boxes from the 
pockets of the country-people who took snuff, and their 
handkerchiefs from the pockets of those who did not 
take snuff. Naturally, the part of La Bouillie, with his 
skill at sleight-of-hand, was to pick the pockets. The 
part of Filasse was, when La Bouillie passed him a snuff- 
box, to substitute coffee-grounds for the snuff it con- 
tained, and to powder with this the handkerchiefs as 
they were passed to him. 

Their attention engaged with Turquetin’s discourse, 
their eyes fixed on the luckless patient, who was wait- 
ing the speaker’s pleasure to operate upon him, their 
ears filled with the noise of the big drum and the 
shouts of the charlatan, oblivious to all around them. 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


159 


the country-people allowed their pockets to be picked 
as if they had been so many manikins. 

Several of the crowd had already used their hand- 
kerchiefs, sneezing violently thereafter, to the great 
delight of the two accomplices, who were ready to split 
their sides with laughter ; others, after taking a pinch 
of snuff, had looked at their snuff-boxes with so com- 
ical an air of surprise that I felt tempted to take an 
active part in this mystification. 

But as I was going to join my comrades I saw a 
gendarme slip behind La Bouillie and seize him by the 
collar, just as he was about to introduce his hand into 
the pocket of an old woman. There was a commotion 
in the crowd, an uproar, and Filasse was also arrested. 

Without waiting to see more I made my way out of 
the crowd, and, trembling with fear, hurried to our en- 
campment, where I related what I had just witnessed. 

An hour later the police came to search our wagons, 
ifaturally, they found nothing, for my two compan- 
ions were not thieves. They kept them in prison, how- 
ever, and Lapolade’s efforts to persuade the magis- 
trates that the affair was only a practical joke of two 
boys were so ill-received that he desisted, fearing to 
be arrested himself as an accomplice, or, at least, as a 
receiver of stolen goods. The police show little mercy 
to mountebanks, and if a crime is committed in a place 
when they chance to be passing through it, they are 
the first on whom suspicion falls. When they are ac- 
cused, it is not necessary to show that they are guilty ; 
it is their place to prove that they are innocent. 

Filasse and La Bouillie, arrested in the act of pick- 
ing the pockets of the country-people, could not prove 


160 


ROMAIN KALBEI8. 


that they had not intended to steal, and they were 
sentenced to detention in the House of Correction un- 
til they should be of age. 

It was decided, in order to fill the vacancy thus left 
in the company, that I should take the place of both. 
To this arrangement of Lapolade I objected strenu- 
ously. I had no vocation for dislocating my bones and 
shutting myself up in boxes. 

There is no question of boxes,’’ he said, pulling me 
by the hair, which was his way of showing affection 
and good - will ; you are supple ; you will 'succeed 
very well in vaulting.” 

It was at the fair of Alencon that I made my debut. 
Unfortunately, there had been very little time to pre- 
pare for this, and although the exercises I had to go 
through were very simple, they resulted in an accident 
which obliged me to put off my projected flight. 

It was a Sunday ; we had begun our performances at 
noon, and had continued them without a moment’s re- 
spite till evening ; the musicians, hot and thirsty, had 
scarcely breath enough left to blow their instruments. 
Lapolade uttered a few discordant words from time to 
time that sounded more like the barking of a dog than 
a speech ; the lion refused to stand up, and when Die- 
lette threatened him with her whip he flxed his lan- 
guid eyes upon her without moving, as if to implore 
her pity. As for me, I was half-dead with fatigue ; I 
was hungry, I was thirsty, and I could no longer stir 
hand or foot. 

At eleven o’clock there were still people before the 
door of our show, and Lapolade decided that we should 
give one more performance. 


KOMAm KALBRIS. 


161 


My only thought is the pleasure of the public,’’ he 
said, in the short discourse he made ; “ we are worn 
out, it is true, but even if we were all to die of fatigue 
our first duty is to you. Come in ! come in !” 

The spectacle was to begin with my performance ; 
this consisted in perilous leaps over the backs of four 
horses running abreast, and in feats of strength per- 
formed at the top of a pole held by Cabriole. I suc- 
ceeded badly in my leaps, and the public showed signs 
of dissatisfaction. When Cabriole held the pole for 
me I was tempted to say that I could do no more, but 
the eyes of Lapolade, fixed upon me with an expression 
which I understood only too well, my vanity, and the 
excitement of the crowd communicating itself to me, 
decided me. I leaped on Cabriole’s shoulders and 
climbed the pole easily enough. 

Cabriole, too, was tired. At the moment when, by 
the force of my arm, I was placing myself horizontally 
on the top of the pole — forming a right angle with it 
— I felt it sway beneath me ; my heart stood still. I 
let go my hold and fell, stretching my hands out be- 
fore me to save myself. 

The crowd uttered a cry; I reached the ground. 
The shock was severe, for I had fallen from a height of 
fifteen feet or more ; and had it not been for the layer 
of sawdust I should undoubtedly have been dashed to 
pieces. I felt a sharp pain, and at the same time I 
heard a sound as of something snapping in my shoul- 
der. 

I rose to my feet immediately, and, as I had seen my 
predecessor do, would have saluted the audience who 
were standing up on the benches, their eyes turned 


162 


EOMAIN KALBKIS. 


anxiously towards me, but I could not raise my right 
arm. 

The people crowded around me, all speaking to me 
at once. I was in great pain, and I felt as if I were 
going to faint. 

It will be nothing,” said Lapolade ; be so good as 
to resume your seats, and the performance will go on.” 

He won’t be able to do so for a while, that is all,” 
said Cabriole, raising both his arms above his head ' 
“ the good souls may sleep in peace.” 

The audience laughed and applauded loudly. 

And, in fact, for six weeks I could not make the 
movement indicated by Cabriole, for my collar-bone 
was broken. 

In the circus the services of a physician are seldom 
called into requisition. Lapolade himself applied a 
bandage to my shoulder when the performance was 
over. For medicine, he made me go to bed without 
supper. 

I slept alone in the wagon of the animals. I had 
been in bed for more than two hours, unable to sleep, 
consumed by a feverish thirst, restlessly turning from 
side to side, in the vain effort to find a comfortable 
position for my shoulder, when I fancied I heard the 
door of the wagon softly open. 

It is I,” said Dielette, in a low voice. ‘‘ Are you 
asleep ?” 

She entered quickly, and coming over to my bedside, 
kissed me. 

‘‘ This has happened through me,” she said. “ Will 
you forgive me ?” 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


163 


For what ?” 

I had let you go you would not have had this 

fall.” 

The moonlight, entering through the casement, fell 
full on Dielette’s face ; I thought I saw tears in her 
eyes. I wished to appear brave. 

‘‘ It is nothing,” I said. ‘^Do you think I am made 
of down ?” 

I tried to stretch out my arm, but a sharp and sud- 
den pain made me utter a little cry. 

“ It is through me,” she said again, ‘^through me, that 
this has happened.” 

And with an abrupt movement she turned up the 
sleeve of her jacket. 

Look at this !” she said. 

‘‘ What ?” 

Feel.” 

She took my hand gently and placed it on her arm. 
I felt something like blood. 

When I knew that your collar-bone was broken,” 
she went on, I bit my arm as hard as I could, so that 
it might pain me as much as possible, for when people 
are friends they should suffer together.” 

She uttered these words with savage energy, and her 
eyes flashed back the moonlight as if they had been 
diamonds. What she had done was absurd ; but I felt 
touched to the heart, and I could scarcely keep from 
crying. 

“ How foolish you are,” she said, divining my emo- 
tion ; you would have done as much for me. See, I 
have brought you some grapes that I took from the 
chest. Are you hungry ?” 


164 


ROM AIN ‘KALEEIS. 


‘‘ I am tliirsty ; the grapes will do me good.” 

She went out again and came back as softly as a 
shadow, bringing me a cup of water. 

^^Now,” she said, ‘^you must go to sleep,” and she 
settled my head on the pillow ; you must hurry and 
get well so that we can run away ; the first day you 
are able to walk we will go. I don’t want you to climb 
on the pole again ; that sort of business does not suit 
you.” 

But how if Lapolade forces me ?” 

‘‘Forces you! I would make Mouton eat him up 
first. That would not be so difiicult — a blow of the 
paw, a snap of the teeth — crack 1” 

At the threshold, before closing the door, she gave 
me a friendly nod, saying, 

“ Go to sleep now.” 

I fancied the pain in my shoulder was less severe. 
I was able to stretch myself comfortably and go to sleep 
thinking of my mother, my heart filled, indeed, with 
emotion, but not oppressed. 

The worst part of my accident was that it delayed 
our fiight, and brought us dangerously near to the in- 
clement season. I had slept very well in the open 
fields during the fine summer nights, but in November, 
when the nights would be long and cold, with rain and 
snow, perhaps, it would be altogether different. 

Dielette would allow me to do nothing; she her- 
self took care of the animals. She was more impatient 
than I to see me well again ; and when I sometimes said 
that it would be more prudent to wait for the spring, 
she grew angry. 

“ If you stay with them,” she said, “ you will not be 


EOMAIN KALBEIS. 


165 


alive in spring. Lapolade will want to teach you 
some feat on the trapeze which will be your death. 
And, then, we are going farther and farther away 
from Paris. In the spring we shall, perhaps, be in the 
South.” 

This was a decisive reason. 

I must make haste to get well. Every morning I 
passed under Dielette’s inspection — that is to say, I stood 
with my back to the partition of the wagon and raised 
my arm as high as I could. With her knife she made 
a mark on the partition where my arm stopped, and 
then, by comparing the height each day with that of 
the previous day, we followed, step by step, the prog- 
ress of the cure. 

From Alencon we had proceeded to Vendome, and 
from Yendome to Blois ; from Blois we were to go on 
to Tours, where I was to resume my performances. It 
was agreed upon, then, between Dielette and me, that 
at Blois we should leave the caravan and take the Or- 
leans road to Paris. She had given me her money and 
I had bought an old map of the road at a second-hand 
dealer’s at Yendome ; with a hair-pin I had constructed 
a compass, and I had calculated the distance between 
Blois and Paris to be forty leagues. This was a great 
distance to travel in the month of November, when the 
days are hardly ten hours long. Could Dielette, who 
was unaccustomed to walking, walk six leagues at a 
stretch ? She bravely declared that she could, but I 
doubted it. In any case, it was a week’s journey ; fort- 
unately she had added to her savings, which now 
amounted to ten francs; our provision of food was 
made, my shoes were finished, and she had picked up 


166 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


by chance on the road an old horse-blanket, on which 
we depended chiefly to shelter us at night. 

We were ready to run away, then, and only waited 
for the cure of my shoulder to be complete, a thing 
which, according to our calculations and to the prog- 
ress attested by the notches on the partition, would co- 
incide with the latter part of our sojourn at Blois ; 
but a revolt of Mouton, generally so docile, delayed 
our flight a second time. 

One evening two Englishmen, who had applauded 
Dielette loudly during the performance, came to her 
when the audience had retired and asked her to go 
over her exhibition again. Lapolade acceded to the 
request all the more willingly as it was made by two 
men whom an abundant dinner seemed to have dis- 
posed to generosity. Dielette went into the cage once 
more. 

She is a charming girl, that !” 
brave girl !” 

And they applauded again. 

I know not what sentiment of vanity it was that 
roused the jealousy of Lapolade, and made him say 
that if she could perform those feats with the lion so 
fearlessly it was owing to the training which he, La- 
polade, had given her. 

‘‘You cried the younger of the two Englishmen, a 
handsome young man with a fair and rosy complexion, 
“ you are a braggart ; you would be afraid to go into 
the cage.” 

Ten louis to one that you would not go into it,” 
said the other. 

“ Done !” cried Lapolade. 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


167 


“ But the girl must come out first and you must go 
in alone.” 

Perhaps, after all, it is only a prejudice that makes 
us fancy that it needs great courage to go into the 
cage of a wild beast. 

The whip,” said Lapolade to Dielette. 

“ It is understood,” said the young Englishman, 

that the girl is to come out of the cage and not to go 
in again ?” 

“ It is understood.” 

We were all present — Cabriole, Madame Lapolade, 
the musicians, and I, whose duty it was to open the 
door of the cage. 

Lapolade took off his general’s uniform. 

“If the lion is intelligent,” said one of the English- 
men, “ he will not touch him — he would be too tough 
a morsel.” 

And they began to make jokes at the expense of our 
master, which made us all laugh. 

Mouton was intelligent enough to have retained the 
recollection of the blows with the handle of the whip 
which Lapolade had at various times administered to 
him through the bars of his cage, and he began to 
tremble when the latter gravely entered the cage, his 
whip raised threateningly. 

This attitude on the part of the animal encouraged 
Lapolade ; he thought he could master the old lion, and 
he gave him a blow of the whip to make him rise ; but 
a blow with a whip is not the same as a blow with a 
pitchfork. Mouton knew that he had his enemy in his 
power ; a gleam of courage passed through his stupe- 
fied brain; he rose to his feet, growling, and before 


168 


KOMAIN KALBEIS. 


Lapolade could draw back, threw himself on the un- 
fortunate man, dragging him to the ground with his 
two formidable paws, whose claws we could see con- 
tract spasmodically, and rolled him under his body 
with a terrific roar. 

It is all over with me !” cried Lapolade. 

Crouching over him, the lion looked at us througli 
the grating ; his eyes fiashed fire, while he lashed his 
sides with his tail, making them resound like the sides 
of a drum. 

Cabriole seized a pitchfork and showered blows upon 
the lion, who did not stir. Then one of the English- 
men drew a revolver from his pocket and placed it 
close to the side of the lion’s head, which almost 
touched the bars. 

But with a quick movement Madame Lapolade 
threw up his arm. 

“ Don’t kill him !” she cried. 

“Ah,” said the Englishman, “ she sets more store on 
the lion, it seems, than she does on her husband.” 

And he said a few words in a low voice in a foreign 
language. 

The confusion and the cries had attracted Dielette’s 
attention ; she ran towards the cage. One of the bars 
was so arranged that it could be removed, leaving a 
space wide enough for her slender form, though not for 
the lion’s head, to pass through. She removed the bar 
and entered the cage unperceived by Mouton, whose 
back was turned towards her. 

She had no whip ; she threw herself boldly upon the 
lion and seized him by the mane. Surprised at this 
attack, and not knowing whence it proceeded, he turned 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


169 


around quickly, throwing her against the bars ; but 
seeing who his assailant was, he dropped his paw, al- 
ready raised to crush her, and, rising up, went and 
crouched in a corner of the cage. 

Lapolade was not dead, but he was so bruised that it 
was necessary to lift him out bodily from the cage, 
while Dielette held the lion in check by her gaze. 

She herself left the cage limping. The lion had 
bruised her leg, and she had received a sprain which 
confined her for a week to her chair, while Lapolade, 
mangled and spitting blood, lay between life and 
death. 

At the end of a fortnight she declared that she could 
walk without pain, and that the time was now come to 
carry out our plan. Lapolade, obliged to keep his bed 
by his wounds, would be unable to pursue us. 


XIL 

It was the 3d of November, but the weather was 
fine for the season ; if we made haste we might hope 
to reach Paris before the severe weather set in. 

After long discussion the following plan was decided 
upon : As I was not watched I should leave the caravan 
first, taking all the baggage — that is to say, the store of 
crusts, the blanket, a bottle, my second pair of shoes, 
a small bundle of linen, which had been hidden in my 
chest by Dielette, and a tin saucepan — a complete load, 
in short ; then when the Lapolades should be asleep, 
Dielette would rise, slip out of the wagon, and come 


170 


EOMAIN KALBEIS. 


to meet me at a certain tree on the boulevard on which 
we had set a mark. 

I arrived at the rendezvous as eleven o’clock was 
striking. Dielette did not join me until midnight. 
I was beginning to despair of her coming, fearing that 
she had been observed, when I heard her light step on 
the road. Her figure stood out against a band of 
light, and I recognized the red cape which she wore 
when, after her performance, she came to join the 
parade. 

I thought I should never be able to get away,” she 
said, panting for breath. Lapolade was sighing like a 
seal — he would not go to sleep — and then I went to say 
good-bye to Mouton. Poor Mouton ! how he is going 
to grieve ! Are you sure you have everything ?” 

This was no time to make an inventory. I told her 
that they might pursue us, and that we had better 
hurry and try to gain the open country. 

Very well,” she said, ‘^let us go ; but first give me 
your hand.” 

What for ?” 

To take in mine, that we may both swear that this 
is for life or death. Will you swear that?” 

^‘Willingly.” 

“Give me your hand, then, and repeat after me: 
We will stand by each other in life or death !” 

“ In life or death !” 

She clasped my hand in hers, and I was deeply moved 
by the accent in which she pronounced this formula. 

In the deserted streets of the town reigned a myste- 
rious silence disturbed only by the gentle plashing of a 
fountain, and by the creaking of the lamps that swung 


EOMAIN KALBEIS. 


171 


back and forth in the wind at the end of their iron 
chains, casting long wavering shadows on the ground. 

Let us go now,” she said, taking a step forward. 

We had not walked long before we found ourselves 
in the fields. While following her, I looked at her at- 
tentively. I fancied that her left arm was curved out 
as if she carried some object under her cloak. Since 
I had charge of all our baggage, what could it be ? I 
asked her. 

‘^It is my mignonette,” she answered, raising her 
cloak, under which I perceived a small fiower-pot cov- 
ered with gold paper. She had always taken care of 
this plant, which had stood in one of the windows of 
the wagon, and for which I had more than once seen her 
make tyrannical exactions which exasperated Lapolade. 

And how do you think we shall be able to carry 
that ?” I asked, not a little annoyed at this additional 
encumbrance. 

How could I leave it behind ? It would have died. 
It was enough to leave Mouton ! Poor Mouton ! Do 
you know that just now I was strongly tempted to bring 
him with us ? How he looked at me ! I am certain he 
suspected something.” 

To take Mouton with us seemed to me a very droll 
idea. In a leash, no doubt, like a dog. I could not 
help laughing. 

Dielette divided the baggage between us, and I had 
a great deal of trouble to persuade her to let me take 
the largest share. 

The night was cool, although not cold ; the sky, of 
a grayish -blue, was studded with stars that sparkled 
brightly ; the plain was wrapped in silence ; the trees 


172 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


stood erect and motionless ; not a branch stirred, not a 
le^ rustled, none of those noises of birds or insects 
were to be heard which make summer nights alive ; 
only from time to time, as we passed some house, a dog 
would bark after us, rousing other dogs that would re- 
turn the bark, the sounds dying away in the silence of 
the night like the calls of sentinels challenging and 
answering one another. 

To put ourselves beyond reach of pursuit should La- 
polade make any attempt to follow us it would be nec- 
essary to walk all night. I feared that Dielette would 
not be able to keep up with me, but she did not com- 
plain of being tired until near morning. We had 
passed through several sleeping villages during the 
night, and from the mile-stones on the road we learned 
that we were five leagues distant from Blois. Before 
us a yellow glow was beginning to brighten the hori- 
zon. The cocks, awakening, crowed to one another 
from the neighboring poultry -yards. In the houses 
lights began to appear through the shutters ; soon horses 
and ploughmen, going with slow step to their work in 
the fields, began to pass along the road. 

Let us take a rest now,” said Dielette ; I am no 
longer afraid.” 

You were afraid, then?” I said. 

Yes, indeed, ever since we left Blois.” 

Of what ?” 

Of the silence. I don’t like silence at night. And 
then the shadows, lengthening themselves out and 
shortening themselves by turns, make one’s heart stand 
still and then go on at a gallop.” 

Morning dawned while we were breakfasting on our 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


173 


crusts — a gray, misty morning. Far as the eye could 
reach stretched an open plain where, among scattered 
clumps of trees, nestled cottages from whose chimneys 
columns of yellow smoke rose gently. Fields recently 
ploughed succeeded fields covered with stubble; no- 
where was to be seen vegetation. Flocks of crows 
slowly winged their fiight through the air, and alighted, 
separating into little bands, around the ploughs and 
harrows at work in the fields. 

We soon resumed our journey again, and did not stop 
until we had made two leagues ; but our limbs were now 
stiff with f^igue, and Dielette was ready to drop with 
sleep. She was so tired that she slept for five hours 
without stirring. 

My chief anxiety on this journey was as to how we 
should spend the nights. I had had some experience 
of sleeping in the open air, and I was not a little uneasy 
on account of the cold. We agreed, therefore, on resum- 
ing our march, that we would stop wherever we found 
a sheltered place to sleep, without regard to the dis- 
tance we had walked. We found such a place at the 
foot of a park wall, where the wind had blown together 
a large heap of dry leaves. As it was hardly four 
o’clock when we came upon this spot, I had all the time 
necessary before nightfall to prepare our couch. 

I gathered some armfuls of dry leaves in the wood 
and added them to the heap by the wall, smoothing all 
out evenly. Above this I placed some branches, fixing 
them firmly in the earth between the stones. This 
formed a species of frame, oVer which I spread the 
blanket ; we thus had a bed and a roof. 

Dielette was greatly delighted with this arrangement ; 


174 


KOIMLAIN KALBKIS. 


a hut in the woods was so amusing ; it was like the sto- 
ry of little Tom Thumb. Now, if we only had some 
butter, she would make some soup — but we had no 
butter. 

By the time we had finished our dinner, however — 
which, like our breakfast, consisted of crusts — it was 
beginning to grow dark. When the last red gleam 
of sunset had faded away in the sky, when the birds, 
perched among the leafy pines, no longer twittered, 
when shadows filled the wood, she seemed less assured. 

“ Are you sleepy she asked me. ' 

“ No,” I returned. 

“ Well, then, will you stay awake until #fall asleep ? 
I shall be less afraid if you do.” 

We were not badly sheltered under our blanket. 
Through the holes, however, which were numerous, we 
could see the stars shining in the sky, and although all 
nature seemed to sleep, we could hear those mysterious 
little noises that told us we were not within the walls 
of a house. 

For a long time Dielette turned about uneasily. At 
last, however, overcome by fatigue, she fell asleep. 
Glad to be relieved from my watch, I soon followed 
her example. 

I was right in fearing the cold ; before morning it 
woke us up. 

“ Are you cold ?” Dielette asked me when she felt 
me move. “ I am frozen.” 

There was no remedy, however ; we had done all 
that we could. The best thing was to go asleep again 
and wait for morning. 

But I found this impossible ; I was chilled through ; 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


175 


and, notwithstanding all my efforts to avoid it, I shiv- 
ered from head to foot. I heard, too, a noise around 
us which caused me some uneasiness : the leaves on the 
ground crackled as if thousands of insects were walk- 
ing over them. 

‘^Do you hear that ?” Dielette asked me, in a low 
voice. Notwithstanding my desire to reassure her, I 
could not answer no, and, besides, I began to be a little 
frightened myself. I tried to be brave, because I had 
my companion to protect ; if I had been alone I should 
probably have run away. 

For more than half an hour we lay without daring 
to move. I could hear Dielette’s teeth chatter; our 
bed of leaves was shaken by our trembling, and outside 
the same crackling continued. 

The continuance and regularity of the sounds in the 
end reassured me a little. If they had been produced 
by a human being or by an animal they would have 
varied. I made up my mind to look out. 

I raised a corner of the blanket. The white light of 
the moon, which came down from a starry sky, showed 
me that everything was in the same condition as be- 
fore. 

I rested my hand upon the leaves, in order to lean 
out to obtain a better view ; the leaves crackled ; they 
were stiff, and adhered to one another in a compact 
mass — the crackling had been caused by the frost. 

This reassured us, but it did not warm us. On the 
contrary, to know that it was freezing made us feel 
colder than before. 

Suddenly I heard Dielette getting up. 

“ What is the matter ?” I asked. 


176 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


“ My mignonette ! my mignonette !” she cried. “ It 
will freeze and die !” 

She took the plant in her arms and wrapped her 
cloak around it to keep it from the cold. 

What was the hour ? Was it morning, or was it still 
night ? The moon had descended in the sky, but I did 
not know at what time it would set. 

It soon became impossible to remain under our cov- 
er ; although we huddled close to each other we shiv- 
ered with cold so that we could scarcely speak. We 
resolved to resume our journey ; by walking we should 
at least be able to get a little warmer. 

We must pack up our bundles again and take them 
on our backs. One diflBculty presented itself, however: 
Dielette wished to protect her mignonette from the 
cold, and she could think of no better means of doing 
so than by holding it under her cloak. As carrying the 
plant in so constrained a position would almost para- 
lyze her arm, I proposed to leave it behind us; but she 
received this proposition indignantly, saying that I had 
no heart, and I did not venture to insist. 

We resumed our march, then, while it was still night, 
on account of the cold. Our journey had begun inau- 
spiciously. I did not dare to communicate my fears to 
Dielette, however ; she walked along bravely, and she 
always had some cheerful word to say which it did me 
good to hear. 

After walking for an hour through the fields we 
heard the cocks crowing, and we were rejoiced to think 
that it would soon be day. We were now warm, and 
we recounted, laughing at each other, our terrors of 
the night. This gave rise to an argument as to which 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


177 


of US was the braver, and we finally agreed that I was 
braver than Dielette, but that Dielette had more com- 
mon sense than I. 

Dreading pursuit should we take the direct road to 
Paris, as Lapolade would probably take that road if he 
pursued us, we took the road leading from Blois to 
Chartres ; according to the map this was but a slight 
detour. 

That evening we passed Chateaudun. The day had 
been warm, but the evening was cool, and we resolved 
to put up for the night at an inn. This was to under- 
go an expense we could ill afford, but it was better than 
to die of cold. 

When our money is all gone,” said Dielette, “ I will 
sing in the villages and we can earn more.” 

She said this so courageously, with such unquestion- 
ing faith in her success, that her confidence communi- 
cated itself to me. 

But it was not so easy a matter as we thought to earn 
money by singing ; we were soon to learn this, and to 
learn, too, how easy it is to spend it. 

Two leagues from Chateaudun we received hospi- 
tality for the night at an inn, for which we paid forty 
sous. In addition to this we were obliged to tell where 
we came from and whither we were going. Fortu- 
nately, I had my story ready : we were going to Char- 
tres to engage a place for our show, which was a short 
distance behind, and which would arrive at the town 
on the next day or the day after. 

To lie suited neither Dielette nor me ; it was a hard 
necessity which humiliated us. 

From Chateaudun to Chartres the way lay through 
12 


178 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


broad barren plains, with here and there, at rare inter- 
vals, some village surrounded by fields; on the road 
itself, however, scarcely a house was to be seen.* 

When we reached Bonneval, which is a large town, 
we thought we were going to make a fortune ; but all 
they gave us there was three sous. I do not count as 
a gift a pitcher of water, which a gentleman who was 
shaving himself threw over us, nor the attentions of a 
dog, which a butcher set at us, and which tore Die- 
lette’s skirt. All is not gain in the profession of a 
singer. 

‘^If I had a wolf,” said Dielette, ^^and you a fiute, 
we should be able to earn money. It is odd that they 
will only give to those who have something.” 

Dielette was endowed with an incredible amount of 
patience; no mishap or ill-treatment ever made her 
lose her temper. 

Fortunately, we had not our lodging to pay for that 
night; they gave us shelter at a farm-house, where they 
put us to sleep in a sheep-fold, which was maintained 
comfortably warm by the sheep ; this night was the 
pleasantest of our journey. In the morning, as we 
were about to start, the farmer’s wife, who was getting 
into her wagon to go to the market of Chartres, saw us. 
She was touched by Dielette’s air of fatigue, and offered 
her a place beside her ; but Dielette refused, looking 
at me so expressively that the kind-hearted woman — 
comprehending that she did not want to be comfortable 
unless I could be so, too — took both of us in. 

Sleeping in this way — sometimes in a farm-house, 
sometimes in a brick-yard, sometimes in an inn, and 
walking every day as far as our strength would per- 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


179 


mit — we arrived at a little hamlet near Bievre, three 
leagues distant from Paris. 

It was high time ; we had only eleven sous left. Die- 
lette’s shoes were in ribbons ; one of her feet was blis- 
tered, and pained her excruciatingly when, after rest- 
ing awhile, we resumed our march ; and we were so 
tired that we dragged our limbs after us as if we were 
shod with lead. 

She made no complaint, however, and she was al- 
ways the first to be ready to start in the morning. 

Our eleven sous did not permit us to spend that night 
at an inn, but at Saclay we chanced to fall in with a 
carrier with whom we travelled, and he gave us a shel- 
ter in his stable. 

must start early to-morrow,” said Dielette; ^4t 
is Saint Eugenie’s day, and I want to arrive in time to 
wish mamma joy on her fdte day ; I will give her my 
mignonette.” 

Poor mignonette ! It was leafiess, ragged, withered ; 
but, after all, it was still alive, and a few shoots, green- 
er than the others, showed what it had once been. 

We set out on our way when the carrier came to 
harness his horses — that is to say, before dawn. 

The weather up to this had, as if by a miracle, been 
fine : cool at night and clear in the daytime ; but on 
leaving the stable we fancied that the cold had grown 
sharper. The sky was cloudy, however ; not a star 
was to be seen, and in the east, instead of the gorgeous 
red and copper-colored hues to which we had been ac- 
costumed since the beginning of our journey, hung 
dark -gray clouds. In addition to this a wind blew 
from the north, which stripped the leaves from the 


180 


KOMAIN KALBEI8. 


boughs and whirled them about in the air. At times 
they rushed towards us in such clouds that it almost 
seemed as if they wished to bar our progress. Die- 
lette found it very difficult to keep her cloak around 
the mignonette. Day was breaking, but with a gloomy 
and livid light. 

The sun is taking a rest ; so much the better ; it 
will not show oflE our dirty rags,” said Dielette, who 
found some compensation in every trouble. 

Never fear ; the skies will wash them clean before 
we reach Paris,” I answered. 

I thought it was going to rain, but it snowed instead. 
At first the snow came down in little fiakes that were 
soon dissolved by the wind; then the fiakes became 
larger, and fell in a dense and compact mass which the 
wind blew in our faces with such violence as almost to 
blind us. 

We had walked scarcely a league; woods bordered 
the road on either side, and we resolved to look for a 
shelter in them. Far as the eye could reach not a house 
was to be seen ; and nothwithstanding our anxiety to 
reach Paris, it was impossible to walk in this snow- 
storm. 

The woods were crossed at intervals by ditches bor- 
dered with hedges, in which the withered leaves still 
clung to the branches. We took shelter at the foot 
of one of these hedges. It protected us for a time, 
but the snow, whirled along by the wind, skimmed the 
earth like a cloud of white dust, pausing in its course 
when it encountered any obstacle. It soon accumu- 
lated in this way on the other side of our hedge, until 
finally it rose above the top of the hedge and fell down 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


181 


on the side on which we had taken shelter ; it whirled 
above onr heads and slipped down our necks, where it 
melted. We endeavored to shelter ourselves with the 
blanket, but the wind rendered this almost impossible. 

Our garments were in tatters; they afforded slight 
protection against the cold. I saw that Dielette looked 
blue, and that she was shivering ; she huddled up close 
to me, but I was too cold myself to communicate 
warmth to her. The snow sifted in powder down my 
neck and ran in water into my shoes. I was wetter 
than if I had dipped myself in the river. 

For two hours we remained in this position. The 
snow did not seem to fall from the sky ; it sped along 
horizontally, like innumerable tiny white arrows ; some- 
times it would whirl in eddies through the air. 

Dielette had not abandoned her mignonette, how- 
ever ; she still held it pressed close to her, sheltered 
under her cloak; but the snow penetrated there as 
everywhere ; when she saw that the earth around the 
plant was covered with snow which was frozen hard, 
she handed me the flower-pot. 

What do you wish me to do with it I asked. ' 

“ Try to save it for me, I implore you.” 

I was vexed to see her so greatly concerned about 
this plant. I shrugged my shoulders and pointed to 
her Angers, stiffened by contact with the pot. 

Ah,” she said, angrily, why did you not tell me 
in the beginning to throw it away ?” 

We were in a situation where disputes are easily 
kindled ; we exchanged a few angry words — the flrst 
that had ever passed between us ; then, relapsing into 
silence, we sat watching the falling snow. 


182 


ROMAIN EA.LBEIS. 


But presently I felt her hand seeking mine. 

you want me to throw it away?” she said, 

sadly. 

You can see that it is dead ; the leaves are black 
and drooping.” 

She did not answer, but I saw her eyes fill with tears. 

Oh, mamma !” she said. Then I shall take her 
nothing !” 

Let us keep it,” I said ; and I took the pot from 

her. 

The snow still fell, but the wind had diminished ; it 
soon ceased altogether, and then the fiakes came down 
thicker; in a few moments the earth was covered with 
snow, which rose up around us, as if to envelop us 
gradually in its icy folds. 

This lasted for more than an hour. The branches 
of the trees bent under the weight of the snow. On 
our blanket, which protected us to some extent, we felt 
a weight of several pounds. Huddled closely together, 
we neither moved nor spoke; the cold had benumbed 
us, and I think neither of us was fully conscious of the 
danger of our situation. 

At last the snow-fiakes diminished in size, grew 
lighter, and finally ceased to fall. The sky was of a 
slaty blackness ; the only light there was came from 
the white ground. 

Let us go on,” said Dielette. 

We regained the high-road; the snow was half-way 
up to our knees. Far as the eye could reach not a 
wagon was to be seen on the road, not a laborer in 
the fields ; the only living creatures to be seen in this 
desert were the magpies that, perched on the branches 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


183 


of the trees along the ditches, seemed to be mocking 
us with their cries as we went by. 

After passing through a village we came to the 
summit of a high bank, where we could see before us 
a cloud of smoke resting over an immense city, irreg- 
ularly laid out between two white hills ; a confused 
hum, something like the murmur of the sea, reached 
us where we stood. 

“ It is Paris,” said Dielette. We felt less cold, less 
exhausted, at sight of it. 

On the road vehicles were driving towards the city. 

But we were not yet there ; and when we descended 
to the plain and no longer saw before us the desired 
goal our weariness and exhaustion returned. 

We slipped at every step and made scarcely any 
progress ; our wet garments smoked on our bodies. 

The snow on the road gradually lost its whiteness, 
until at last it was only a blackish slush. Vehicles 
drove past us, going to or coming from the city, in 
endless procession ; houses succeeded houses, and here 
and there in the fields were to be seen large black 
wheels lying among heaps of stones. Notwithstand- 
ing her spirit, Dielette was obliged to stop ; the per- 
spiration rolled down her forehead, and she limped 
badly. I brushed away the snow from a bench that 
stood before the door of a house on the road, and she 
sat down to rest. 

. Ask if we have still far to walk,” she said to, me as 
a wagoner passed by. 

Where do you want to go ?” the man said, when I 
asked him the question. 

‘‘ To the market,” I answered. 


184 


KOMAIN KALBEIS. 


Well, it will take you a good hour and a half to 
get there,” he replied. 

shall never be able to walk so far,” she said, on 
hearing this answer. 

She was livid, her eyes were dull, and she panted for 
breath. 

I was obliged to lift her up ; she wanted to remain 
on the bench, where already the fatal torpor produced 
by the cold had begun to steal over her. I reminded 
her of her mother, and her courage revived. We had 
almost reached the end of our journey, and we no longer 
needed the articles we had brought with us. I left them 
where they were on the bench, and told her to lean on me. 

Once more we resumed our journey. 

You will see how mamma will embrace you,” she 
said, ‘^and what good soup and cakes she will give 
you ; as for me, I will stay in bed for a week.” 

At the barrier I asked the way to the market. They 
told us to walk straight on in the direction of the river. 
The streets of Paris were still more dirty and slippery 
than the highway ; the passers-by stopped to look at 
us as we walked along ; in the midst of this crowd of 
people and vehicles, bewildered, wet, spattered with 
mud, our clothes in tatters, we must have looked like 
two birds strayed from their nest. Dielette with hope 
had recovered some of her strength, however, and we 
still kept up a tolerably brisk pace. 

When we reached the bank of the Seine we were 
directed to the Pont-Neuf, and on our way there we 
came upon St. Eustache. 

When we saw the gilded dial I felt Dielette’s arm 
tremble. 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


185 


“ The clock !” she said ; that is the clock !” 

It was but a momentary gleam of joy. 

It is the clock, indeed,” she said ; but where are 
the houses?” 

We walked around the church. 

‘‘We were mistaken,” she said; “it is not St. Eus- 
tache.” 

I inquired again where we were; at St. Eustache, 
they told us. 

Dielette’s gaze wandered, her speech faltered. 

“ Let us look in all the streets in the neighborhood 
of the church,” I said to her. 

She allowed me to lead her, but the spirit that on 
arriving had helped her to throw off her fatigue had 
vanished. 

She remembered none of the streets. 

In front of the church was a large vacant space where 
the houses had been torn down, and men were working. 

“It was there!” she said, bursting into tears; 
“ there !” 

“ Let us inquire.” 

“How shall we inquire? I remember neither the 
name of the street nor mamma’s name; the house, 
however, I should have known at once.” 

Stronger minds than ours would have been discour- 
aged by this blow. So many labors, so many trials, so 
sure a hope to end in this! We leaned against the 
church, looking at each other stupefied, frightened, 
while the crowd, dense in this place, elbowed and 
jostled us about. Some of the passers-by stopped to 
look curiously at the two poor little bundles of rags, 
who presented in this spot so strange a spectacle. 


186 


KOMAIN KALBEIS. 


Less disappointed in my hopes, and, above all, less ex- 
hausted than Dielette, I soon recovered myself, and 
taking her by the arm I led her to a large covered build- 
ing where vegetables of all sorts were lying in heaps. 

In one corner were a number of empty baskets; I 
made her sit down on one of these; she allowed her- 
self to be led like an imbecile. I could think of noth- 
ing to say to her ; her lips were white, and she trembled 
from head to foot. 

“ You feel ill I said to her at last. 

“Ah, mamma!” she exclaimed, and large tears rose 
to her eyes. 

Around us the people were coming and going un- 
ceasingly, shouting, disputing, selling, buying, carrying, 
taking away — the hubbub, the tumult, the activity of 
the market. 

It was not long before we were observed ; the sight 
of two children so poorly clad, so pale, so exhausted with 
fatigue, one of whom cried without ceasing, was one to 
awaken curiosity. 

“What are you doing here?” a stout woman asked me. 

“ Resting,” I answered. 

“ This is no place to rest,” she replied. 

Without responding, I took Dielette by the hand to 
make her rise and go with me. Where ? I did not < 
know. But she looked at me with a glance so express- 
ive of weariness and discouragement that the stout 
woman took pity on us. 

“You can see she is too tired,” she said to me. 
“Are you not ashamed to force her to walk ?” 

In response to her questions I told her the reason 
of our being here — that is to say, that we had come 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


187 


from a great distance to find Dielette’s mother, and 
that the house had been torn down. 

What a history !” she said, when I had finished my 
narrative ; and she called to some of the other women 
who gathered around us. 

“ Then you know neither her mother’s name nor the 
name of the street in which she lived?” one of the 
women said to me, after I had again gone over my 
story. ^^Does any of you know such a person ?” she 
added, turning to the women around — a mercer who 
lived in one of those streets where the houses have been 
torn down.” 

Then followed questions, answers, and discussions, 
but without any satisfactory result. How was it pos- 
sible to identify the place after a lapse of eight years ? 
The houses in the streets had been torn down a long 
time ago. Mercers there were in plenty, but which of 
them was Dielette’s mother ? Where did she live ? 
Where look for her ? All was chaos. 

While all this talk was going on Dielette had grown 
paler than she was before; she shivered more than 
ever. I could hear her teeth chatter. 

“ It is easy to be seen that this child is frozen,” said 
one of the women. Come, little heart, you shall warm 
yourself over my warming-pan.” 

She made us go into her shop, into which two or 
three women followed us, while the others went back 
to their stands talking among themselves. 

She did not content herself with ^letting us warm 
ourselves over her warming-pan ; she had two cups of 
broth brought to us, and when she had warmed and re- 
■ freshed us she put twenty sous into my hand. 


188 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


This was a large sum for her to give, but how small 
a one for us in our terrible situation! Where to go, 
what to do now — that was the question. As for me, I 
might have continued my journey to Havre, but Die- 
lette — what was to become of her ? She, herself, felt 
the helplessness of her situation, for when we found 
ourselves again in the street her first words were : 

Where are we going now 

The church was in front of us ; the snow, which had 
begun to whirl again through the frozen air, made it 
impossible to remain in the street. 

There,” I answered, pointing to the door of the 
church. 

We entered ; the atmosphere was warm and pleas- 
ant ; silence reigned in the church ; only in the chapels 
knelt here and there a worshipper. We took refuge 
in the darkest of them. ^‘My God ! my God I” mur- 
mured Dielette. 

“ Listen to me,” I said to her in a low voice ; “ since 
you cannot find your own mamma, you must go to 
mine.” 

“ To Port Dieu ?” 

‘^Yes; you don’t want to go back to Lapolade, I 
suppose. You have had enough of the show; well, 
you must go to mamma. You can work with her ; she 
will teach you her trade. When I come back from the 
sea I will go to join you both. You will see that 
mamma will love you. And then if you are with her 
I shall be easier in my mind ; she will not be so 
lonely ; if she should fall sick you will take care of 
her.” 

Dielette was frankness itself. She accepted my 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


189 


proposition with a joy which showed, more than any 
words could have done, how keenly she had felt the 
desolateness of her position. She offered only one ol> 
jection : 

“Your mother will not wish to have me.” 

“ Why not 

“ Because I have been a performer in a circus.” 

“Well, I have been one also.” 

“Ah, but in your case it is different,” she answered, 
sorrowfully. 

It was a great deal to know where we were going, 
but it was not enough to have a place of destination ; 
it was necessary also to know how to reach it. The 
future seemed secure, but what of the present ? 

I had no very clear idea of how far it was from Paris 
to Port Dieu ; I only knew that it was very far. 

When I had left our bundles at Montrouge, as a 
vessel throws its cargo overboard to lighten its weight 
and save itself from sinking, I had fortunately kept 
my road map. I took it now from my pocket, and, 
unfolding it on one of the seats, I began to study it. I 
saw that to leave Paris we must follow the course of 
the Seine. 

This was for the moment the essential point ; later 
on I could study the rest of the journey. 

But how make this journey without shoes on our 
feet or clothes on our backs, and with only twenty sous 
in our pockets? How undertake it, exhausted with 
fatigue as we were — Dielette, especially, who at every 
moment seemed as if she were going to faint? She 
flushed and paled by turns, and she shivered inces- 
santly. How could we risk spending the night in 


190 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


the open air, in the cold and snow, when only that 
morning, in the daylight, we had been so near dying ? 

Can you walk the distance I asked Dielette. 

I don’t know,” she said ; “ when we were coming 
here I seemed to see mamma, and that gave me cour- 
age; but I cannot see your mamma.” 

What are you doing here ?” asked a voice behind 
us. 

The map was spread out on one of the seats ; it was 
very evident it was not our prayers we were reading 
from it. 

“ Come, hurry up, and get out of here.” 

We had to obey and walk out before the beadle, who 
kept muttering to himself all the way to the door. 

The snow had ceased to fall, but a high wind was 
blowing and the cold was intense. 

We retraced our steps along the street by which we 
had come. Dielette could scarcely drag herself along. 
I, however, revived by the broth I had taken, and, above 
all, excited by my anxious thoughts, did not feel my 
fatigue greatly. 

We had not been walking for more than ten minutes 
when Dielette stopped. 

‘‘ I can go no farther,” she said. See how I trem- 
ble ; I feel as if I were going to faint ; Iny chest hurts 
me ; I really think I am going to be ill.” 

She sat down on a stone by the way-side, but after 
resting for a few minutes she got up again. 

When we reached the Seine we turned to the right ; 
the wharves stretched before us, covered with snow, 
and the whiteness of its banks made the water of the 
river seem almost black by contrast. The passers-by. 


KOMADT KALBKIS. 


191 


their cloaks drawn tightly around them, walked rapidly 
along. Some children were sliding on the sidewalks 
of the deserted streets. 

‘^Is it far?” asked Dielette. 

“ What ?” 

The place we are going to sleep at ?” 

I don’t know; let us go on quickly.” 

^^But I can’t walk any farther. See, Eomain, leave 
me here ; take me to some corner where I can lie down 
and die.” 

I took her arm ; I wanted to get out of Paris. I 
fancied that if we were in the country we might find 
some brick-yard, some deserted house, an inn in which 
to take shelter; while in the streets, full of people, where 
every one hurried past, where there were policemen 
who looked at us so suspiciously, I felt myself lost. 

We walked on for about a quarter of an hour longer, 
but without making any progress — that is to say that, 
although we were no longer in the midst of houses, we 
found ourselves closed in between a parapet on the one 
side and an immense wall on the other, which seemed 
to have no end ; on the top of this wall were trees 
covered with snow, and soldiers on guard. Dielette, 
to say truth, no longer walked ; I carried her. Not- 
withstanding the cold, the perspiration rolled down my 
forehead, as much from fatigue as from anxiety. I 
saw that she was utterly exhausted, that she was ill. 
What was going to become of us ? 

Dielette released her hold on my arm and sat down 
— or, rather, sank down — on the snow on the sidewalk. 
I tried to raise her up ; her limbs refused to support 
her, and she sank down again. 


192 


KOMAIN KALBRI8. 


“ It is all over,” she said, faintly. 

I sat down beside her, and tried to make her under- 
stand that we must go on walking. She was like an 
inert mass; she neither heard nor answered me; her 
hands, only, still seemed to have any life in them ; they 
burned like coals of fire. 

After a few minutes I got frightened. No one pass- 
ed by. I stood up to look around. Nothing was to be 
seen but the stone walls on either side, and between 
them the white snow. I entreated her to rise ; she did 
not answer. I took her up in my arms ; she made no 
resistance, but after taking a few steps I was obliged 
to rest ; I could go no farther. 

She slipped down on the ground ; I sat down beside 
her. All was over ; she must die here. Faint and ex- 
hausted as she was, she must have retained the con- 
sciousness of our situation, however, for she leaned 
towards me and kissed me gently with her cold and 
trembling lips. This brought the tears to my eyes and 
wrung my heart with anguish. 

I hoped, notwithstanding, that she would soon revive, 
and that we should be able to resume our journey ; but 
she did not move ; her eyes were closed, and she leaned 
heavily against me. If it were not for a nervous trem- 
bling that at times shook her frame, I should have 
thought her dead. 

Two or three passers-by, surprised at seeing us sit- 
ting in the snow in this way, stopped for a moment, 
looked at us inquisitively, and then went on their way. 

But it was necessary to decide on some course. I 
resolved that I would ask help from the first person I 
should see. This chanced to be a policeman, who him- 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


193 


self accosted me, asking what we were doing there. I 
told him that my little sister was ill and could walk no 
farther. 

Then he put one question after another to me. When 
I had told him (it was the story I had prepared) that 
we were going to relations at Port Dieu, a place far 
away on the sea-coast, and that we had been walking 
for the past ten days, he looked at us in amazement. 

Come,” he said, “that child will die there; we must 
take her to the station-house.” 

But Dielette, who was growing weaker and weaker, 
was unable to rise; she could not walk before, when I 
had implored her; she could not walk now, when the 
policeman ordered her to walk. 

He then took her up in his arms and told me to go 
along with him. We started for the station-house. 
After we had walked for about five minutes we were 
joined by one of his comrades, to whom he repeated 
the story I had told him, and who carried Dielette in 
his turn. We soon reached a house, before the door of 
which hung a red lantern. Entering, we found our- 
selves in a large apartment, where several policemen 
were seated around a stove, in which there was a roar- 
ing fire. 

As Dielette was unable to answer, they directed their 
questions to me. I went over my story again. 

“ I really believe she is dead,” said one of the police- 
men. 

“ No ; but she is not very far from it. She must be 
taken to the central bureau.” 

“ And you,” said the chief to me, “what are you go- 
ing to do ? Have you any means of support ?” 

13 


194 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


I looked at him inquiringly, not knowing what he 
meant. 

‘‘Have you any money?” he explained. 

“ I have twenty sous.” 

“ Well, try to stow yourself away somewhere for to- 
night ; if you are found in the streets you will be ar- 
rested.” 

Dielette was placed in a litter, well wrapped up in 
blankets. The curtains were drawn, and two men car- 
ried her off. 

I was overwhelmed ; I could not believe that she was 
so ill. I must find out. But the policemen, I had been 
told, would arrest me if I were found in the streets. I 
followed the men, however ; I persuaded them to let 
me follow them. 

After a long walk, in the course of which we crossed 
the Seine, we stopped at a square, at the farther end of 
which was a large and handsome church. I was al- 
lowed to enter with them. A gentleman dressed in 
black drew aside the curtains of the litter. Dielette 
was as red as a poppy. 

He questioned her gently. I went forward and an- 
swered for her, repeating my story for the third time. 

“Yes, yes,” he said; “a heavy chill, excessive fa- 
tigue ; it is an infiammation of the chest. To Jesus 
Hospital.” 

He wrote a few words on a paper, and we set out 
again. The men walked with difficulty on the slippery 
snow. Whenever they stopped to rest I went to the 
side of the litter and spoke to Dielette ; sometimes she 
answered me in a voice expressive of suffering; at 
others she did not ansvrer at all. 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


195 


This second stage of our journey was longer than 
the first. At last the men stopped before a house with 
a green door, in a secluded street ; here we were shown 
into a rather dark apartment ; some men, wearing white 
aprons, came to meet us. 

Dielette knew, no doubt, as I did, that the moment 
for our separation had now come ; she drew aside the 
curtain, and, looking at me with feverishly-bright eyes. 
Are you going to leave me she said. 

I remembered nothing but Dielette’s desolate condi- 
tion ; I saw nothing but Dielette, lying in this miserable 
litter, looking at me with imploring eyes. 

“ No,” I answered. 

She had only time to thank me with a look — but 
what a look ! — when they carried her off. 

I was standing motionless, stupefied and overwhelm- 
ed with grief, when the porter told me that I must go 
away. 

“ Can’t I see her ?” I asked. 

Yes; on Sundays and Thursdays.” 

And he pushed me out of the room and closed the 
door behind me. 

Night was approaching, and in some of the houses 
lights were already burning. The first question to de- 
cide was where I should sleep ; as to how I was to live 
in Paris while waiting for Dielette to get well, I could 
think of that to-morrow. The time was past when I 
thought it necessary to have a carefully-arranged plan 
of action, providing against all possible contingencies. 
Long-continued present misery is apt to render us in- 
different to the possible troubles of the future. 

Although my thoughts were occupied exclusively 


196 


KOMAIN KALBEIS. 


with this problem, I could find no solution to it ; I did 
not know that in this great city there were thousands 
of miserable beings at this very hour who, like myself, 
did not know where they should find a place to sleep 
in that night, and yet who did find a place to sleep in, 
and, perhaps, even a dinner also. Brought up in the 
country, I could think of no shelter but such a one as 
would be likely to present itself to the mind of a peas- 
ant — a barn, a stable, a hay-rick; but in the quarter 
where I was I saw none of these — nothing but houses, 
walls, and then more houses. 

On leaving the hospital I turned to the right, and 
found myself in a wide boulevard shaded by tall trees. 
On the corner of the street I read the inscription, Rue 
de Sevres.” Where did the street lead to ? I did not 
know ; it mattered little to me ; since I had no fixed 
destination, I might as well take this road as any other. 
I walked slowly, for I was so worn out with fatigue 
that I could scarcely drag myself along. My feet, bad- 
ly shod, and in contact with the snow since morning, 
had become almost as insensible as if they were without 
life. On the sidewalk of the boulevard some children 
were sliding ; I mechanically stood still to watch them. 

Among those who passed in front of me what was 
my surprise to see a familiar face ; it was that of a boy 
named Biboche, whom I had known at Falaise, where he 
had been a member of Yignali’s troupe. His quarters 
adjoined those of Lapolade, and we had played together. 

As I was the only looker-on I attracted his eye, and 
he at once recognized me and crossed over to me. 

‘‘ What are you doing in Paris?” he said. ‘‘ Is your 
lion here ? I must go to see Dielette.” 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


197 


I told him that I had left Lapolade, that I had been 
in Paris only since morning, and that I was greatly per- 
plexed as to where I should sleep that night. I did 
not mention Dielette, and ended by asking him if he 
thought they would employ me in his company. 

Certainly they would employ you if you are a good 
pal,” he said. Are you a good pal ?” 

I had no idea of the qualities which went to the mak- 
ing of a good pal, but as I was thinking of where I was 
to sleep that night I answered that I thought I pos- 
sessed those qualities. 

“ Shake hands on it then,” said Biboche. 

“And the director?” 

“ How soft this kid is ! I am the director ; you are 
a member of our company now. I will teach you to 
swipe.” 

I did not understand the meaning of these words, 
which were new to me ; no doubt they were Parisian 
words. I did not wish to show too plainly, either, 
the surprise it caused me — not slight, in truth — 
to see Biboche, who was only eleven years old, and 
who was no bigger than a ferret, at the head of a 
troupe. 

“You are cold,” said Biboche, seeing that I was 
shivering ; “ come and warm yourself.” 

He took me to a wine-shop, where he made me drink 
a glass of hot wine. 

“ Now that you are warmed up, let us go get our 
supper,” he said. 

Instead of walking towards the centre of the city, 
which was to our right, we turned to the left and 
walked on for a long time through streets which were 


198 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


almost deserted, and where tlie houses had a mean and 
grimy look. 

Biboche observed my surprise. Did you think I 
had invited you to sleep at the Tuileries?’’ he said, 
laughing. 

It was not, in truth, to the Tuileries that he took me, 
but to an open field. Night had fallen, but it was not 
very dark. We left the road and took a path across 
the fields. At the edge of a pit Biboche stopped. 

“ Here we are,” he said ; give me your hand and 
take care that you don’t fall.” 

We descended into a species of quarry; then, after 
winding our way among blocks of stone, we entered 
a subterranean gallery. Biboche drew from his pocket 
a small wax taper which he lighted. My astonish- 
ment increased at every moment. 

“ In a minute more,” he said, we shall be there.” 

And, indeed, as he spoke, I perceived a red glow light- 
ing up the quarry ; it proceeded from a charcoal fire, 
before which was stretched a boy of about the same 
age as Biboche. 

Any one else ?” asked the latter. 

^‘No.” 

Good ; here is a friend ; try to find him a pair of 
shoes — he needs them badly.” 

The boy went out, and almost immediately returned 
with an armful of shoes of all sorts and sizes. I might 
have fancied myself in a shoemaker’s shop. 

Choose a pair,” said Biboche, “ and if you are ac- 
customed to wear socks, all right, you shall have a pair ; 
all you have to do is to ask for them.” 

I cannot describe the sensation of well-being I ex- 


EOMAIN KALBEIS. 


199 


perienced when I found my travel-sore and frozen feet 
covered with warm woollen socks and new shoes. 

I had just finished putting them on when two other 
boys arrived, then a third, then a fourth, then three 
others, making nine in all. 

Biboche presented me. 

This is a friend I knew in the ring,” he said ; he 
is a good pal. And you, let’s see what you have 
done.” 

Each of the boys then emptied out his pockets be- 
fore the fire ; one of them took from his pocket an in- 
fant’s bottle with a silver top. 

On seeing this they all gave a shout, and then fol- 
lowed jests and bursts of laughter. 

Good,” said Biboche ; “ he can drink out of it him- 
self.” 

They then seated themselves around the fire — not in 
chairs, but on the ground. 

Biboche did the honors at supper, and I was served 
the first. It was long since I had seen such abundance, 
and I must say that not even at Mr. De Bihorel’s had 
I ever sat down to a banquet like the present one ; af- 
ter the ham they attacked a cold turkey, and after the 
turkey ^ jpaU de foie gras. I had so excellent an ap- 
petite that I was the admiration of the company. 

‘‘ Good,” said Biboche, expressing the general senti- 
ment ; “ it is a pleasure to invite a friend who can move 
his jaws like that.” 

But the food, the warmth, and, above all, fatigue, soon 
overpowered me. 

You are sleepy,” said Biboche, seeing that my eyes 
were closing of themselves. All right ; I am sorry I 


200 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


have neither 2i post nor a caJce to offer yon, but you will 
sleep soundly for all that, I warrant.” 

How a post or a cake could help me in going to sleep 
I did not venture to ask ; these were, no doubt, other 
fine words which had not yet found their way into the 
provinces. 

A glass of punch,” said Biboche, and good-night.” 

I declined the glass of punch, which seemed greatly 
to surprise the company, and I asked Biboche to tell 
me where I was to sleep. 

I will show you,” he said. 

And he lighted a candle at the fire, and, passing be- 
fore me, led the way to a side gallery of the quarry. 

There was a thick layer of straw on tlie ground, over 
which were spread two or three woollen blankets. 

Go to sleep,” he said ; to-morrow we will have a 
talk ;” and he left me, taking the candle with him. 

I was not very easy in my mind in this quarry, 
whose shadowy depths my eyes could not pierce. I 
was very curious, too, to know what my new comrades 
were; those heavily-laden pockets, the ham, the in- 
fant’s bottle — all this seemed to me to have a suspicious 
look. But I was so completely worn out that fatigue 
got the better of uneasiness, and I had scarcely wrapped 
my blankets around me when I fell asleep. We will 
have a talk to-morrow,” Biboche had said ; to-morrow it 
would be time enough to ask for explanations. I had a 
shelter, I had dined well ; the day had been too painful 
a one to desire to prolong it ; I went to sleep without 
being disturbed by the shouts of the boys, whom I 
heard carousing and making merry a few steps away. 

On the following morning I was awakened by Bi- 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


201 


boclie ; if it had not been for him I should probably 
have slept for twenty-four hours. 

“ Here,” he said, “ take these traps and dress your- 
self.” 

I took off my rags and put on the garments he had 
thrown down on the straw ; they were a jacket and a 
pair of trousers, of soft, thick, woollen cloth. 

A faint white light came down from the vaulted 
roof ; it was the daylight trying to pierce its way into 
those subterranean depths. 

“My dear fellow,” said Biboche, while I was un- 
dressing myself, “ I have been thinking about you and 
this is the result. You are not very dexterous at the 
trade, are you ?” 

“Hot very,” I answered. 

“ I suspected as much ; that is easily seen. If you 
were to work at our business without an apprentice- 
ship you would soon come to grief. To prevent that 
I am going to put you with a good boy whom you 
can serve as a ratP 

Hoth withstanding my desire not to disgrace myself 
by showing that I was not familiar with the Parisian 
speech, it was impossible for me to let this word pass 
without an explanation ; if I was to be a Tot I must 
first know what a rat was. 

“ Are you dressed ?” asked Biboche, seeing me look- 
ing at him. 

“Yes.” 

“Well, let us go to breakfast, and I will take you 
afterwards to my friend.” 

I followed him ; the fire had gone out, and no trace 
remained of the feast of the night before. The day- 


202 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


light— a little brighter here, as we were nearer to the 
opening — disclosed to view only two pillars that sup- 
ported the roof of the quarry, and here and there some 
heaps of stones. 

From a hollow in the wall Biboche took a bottle, 
some bread, and the remnants of a ham. 

Let us eat a crust,” he said ; we can breakfast 
with your new patron.” 

I summoned all my courage. 

Don’t laugh at me,” I said ; you know I am not 
a Parisian, but I want to ask you what a rat is.” 

This question threw him into such fits of laughter 
that I thought he was going to choke. 

‘‘ How soft they are in your part of the country !” 
he said. “Well, my dear fellow, a mt is a kid — in 
other words, a smart, active boy like you. You don’t 
know either, perhaps, in what way many shopkeepers 
secure their shops while they are in the kitchen eating 
their meals ?” 

Although I did not by any means see the relation 
existing between these two ideas, I answered that I 
did not indeed know in what way the shopkeepers he 
spoke of secured their shops. 

“ By means of a low gate,” returned Biboche, hand- 
ing me the wine bottle, which he had nearly emptied ; 
“ this gate is fastened by a spring which connects with 
a bell ; any one wishing to enter the shop must push 
in the gate ; this causes the bell to ring, and the shop- 
keeper, who is sitting unconcernedly in his back shop 
or in his kitchen, comes to see who is there. Can you 
guess now what the rat is for ?” 

“ Not in the least ; unless it be to replace the bell.” 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


203 


Biboche fell back in his seat in a fit of laughter, 
which this time threatened to choke him in earnest. 
When he had recovered his breath he dealt me a 
smart blow. 

“ If you are going to make any more speeches like 
that,” he said, “ give me warning beforehand, or you 
will be the death of me. Instead of replacing the bell, 
the rails part is to prevent the bell from ringing ; for 
that purpose his companion lifts him over the gate, 
he creeps noiselessly to the drawer, takes out the till^ 
and gives it to his pal outside, who puts in his arms and 
lifts him again over the half-door, and the shopkeeper 
is cleaned out without knowing anything about it. 
Do you catch on 

I was amazed. 

But that is stealing,” I cried. 

Well, what of that ?” 

^‘But you are a thief, then?” 

And you — you are a fool.” 

I did not answer. I was thinking of what I had 
witnessed the night before, and I said to myself that 
Biboche had good reason to call me a fool. 

It was necessary to make up my mind, however. 

See,” I said ; if you are counting on me to do 
that you are mistaken.” 

This time he did not laugh ; he fell into a fury. I 
had deceived him, he said ; if he allowed me to leave 
the quarry I would denounce him. 

Well, you shall not denounce me,” he cried; ‘^for 
you shall not go away from here.” 

“ I will go.” 

Before I could say another word he had sprung 


204 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


upon me; but if lie was the more agile and active of 
the two, I was the stronger ; the struggle did not last 
long ; after the first moment of surprise, in which he 
had thrown me down, I had the advantage, and kept 
him under me. 

“Will you let me go?” I asked. 

“ Will you betray me ?” 

“No.” 

“ Swear it.” 

“ I swear it.” 

I rose. 

“ You know you are nothing but an idiot,” he said, 
angrily, “ a regular idiot ; you will soon see whether 
you will be able to live with your honesty ; if you had 
not met me yesterday you would not be alive to-day, 
and if you are alive it is because you have eaten stolen 
ham and drunk stolen wine ; if your feet are not frost- 
bitten, it is because I gave you stolen shoes ; if you do 
not freeze to death when you leave this place, it will 
be because you have stolen clothes upon your back.” 

I was so easy in those comfortable, warm garments 
that I had forgotten all about them. 

“Will you give me the candle?” I said. 

“ What for ?” 

“ To go get my old clothes.” 

“ I am not casting them up to you ; I gave them to 
you.” 

“Yes, but I don’t want to keep them.” 

He followed me, with a shrug of the shoulders, into 
the gallery where I had spent the night. 

I took off the clothes he had given me and put on 
again my damp rags; the sensation was not a very 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


205 


pleasant one, as you may suppose. When I went to 
put on my old shoes I found that one of them was 
coming to pieces. 

Biboche looked at me in silence. I turned aside, for 
I was ashamed of my wretchedness. 

As far as being a fool is concerned,” he said, in a 
gentle voice, you are that ; but what you are doing 
now, do you see, gives me an odd sort of feeling here,” 
and he struck himself on the breast. “ Is it a pleasant 
thing, then, to feel that one is honest ?” 

“Why don’t you try?” 

“ It is too late.” 

“If you are arrested and punished what will your 
mother say?” 

“ My mother ! Ah, if I only had one ! See, don’t 
speak to me of those things.” 

And as I was about to interrupt him, 

“Are you going to preach?” he cried. “Let me 
alone ; only I don’t want you to go away like that. 
Since you don’t wish to keep those clothes because 
they were stolen, will you accept the clothes I wore 
when I worked at Falaise? I earned those honestly ; 
take them, if you have any heart.” 

I answered that I would accept them. 

“ Very well,” he continued, with evident satisfaction, 
“ let us go to the city together and I will give them to 
you.” 

We returned to the city, and he took me to a fur- 
nished house situated near the barrier. He preceded 
me up-stairs and into a room, where he took from a 
press a jacket and trousers which I remembered dis- 
tinctly to have seen on him at Falaise. He also gave 


206 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


me a pair of shoes which, although not new, were still 
good. 

‘‘Now good-bye,” he said, when I was dressed; “if 
you meet any of my comrades take care not to recog- 
nize them.” 

It was not yet ten o’clock. I had the whole day be- 
fore me to find a place in which to sleep that night. 

The weather. was dry. Warmly clad, well shod, and 
my stomach full, I troubled myself little about the dif- 
ficulty — great as it would be, no doubt — of finding a 
lodging in Paris. 

I could not go to see Dielette. 

I walked straight before me ; perhaps chance would 
come to mj aid. 

After walking for two hours, however, I had still 
found nothing, thought of nothing, although I had 
tried in many different quarters. It then occurred to 
me that I would do better to help chance than to wait 
for chance to help me, and I walked towards the Seine 
with the intention of going to the Market. Perhaps 
the good woman who had given me the twenty sous 
would give me some work, or, if not work, at least some 
idea how I could find work. 

At first she did not recognize me in the garments of 
Biboche. When I told her who I was she asked me 
what I had done with my sister. I told her what had 
taken place the day before, and I saw that she was 
touched ; then I told her that I did not wish to leave 
Dielette behind me in Paris, that I wished to stay here 
until she should be well ; but that to do this I must 
work ; that I did not know where to look for work, 
and that I had thought, I had hoped — 


ROMAIN KALBKIS. 


207 


“You thought of coming to Mother Berceau,” she 
interrupted, “and you did right, my boy. It pleases 
me, do you see, that you should have known by my 
f%ce that I was not the woman to leave a child to die 
in the street. I am not rich, but I have some feeling.” 

She called two or three of her neighbors, and they 
took council together as to what I was best fitted for 
in case they should be able to find me some employ- 
ment — not an easy matter, as it is not the custom for 
cliildren to work in the Market. At last, after much 
discussion, when it was ascertained that I could write 
well, it was unanimously decided that I would be able 
to do the writing at the fish-market if they could find 
a place for me there. 

I was required to take no part in this task which, as I 
learned, was not accomplished without some difficulty. 
All that I knew was that I was installed on the follow- 
ing morning at five o’clock behind a desk at the fish- 
market, where it was my duty to copy the bulletins of 
the day. Nothing could be easier ; I wrote rapidly and 
legibly. When Madame Berceau came to inquire if my 
work gave satisfaction, they told her that I did very 
well, and that I might count upon receiving thirty sous 
a day. This was not a fortune, but as Madame Berceau 
let me sleep in her shop, it more than sufficed for my 
maintenance. 

Dielette had been admitted to the hospital on Mon- 
day. I waited for Thursday with the greatest impa- 
tience, and after I had finished my work at the market 
on that day I went to the Hue de Sevres. They had 
given me a load of oranges at the market, and my pock- 
ets were full. Anxiety quickened uiy» footsteps ; I ar- 


208 


EOMAIN KALBEIS. 


rived at the hospital before the doors were opened. 
How should I find her ? Was she living or dead ? 

When I was directed to the St. Charles ward, I be- 
gan to run, but one of the nurses stopped me, and told 
me that if I made a noise I should be immediately sent 
away ; after that I walked on tiptoe. 

Dielette was alive and already much better. Never 
shall I forget the expression in her eyes when she saw 
me. 

^‘1 knew that you would come,” she said, “unless 
you had died of cold.” 

She made me give her an account of all that I had 
done since our separation. When I related to her the 
episode of the quarry, 

“ That was right,” she said ; “ that was right, my 
brother.” 

She had never before called me her brother. 

“ Kiss me,” she added, turning her cheek to me. 

When she learned what Mother Berceau had done 
for me, 

“ Ah, the good woman !” she said, and her eyes filled 
with tears. Then it was her turn to answer my ques- 
tions. 

She had been very ill ; unconscious for a time, delir- 
ious and feverish, but she had been well cared for ; one 
of the Sisters had been very good to her. 

“ But for all that,” she said to me, in a low voice, “ I 
should like to leave this ; I feel afraid to be here. Last 
night a little girl died in that bed there, and when they 
put her in the brown box I fainted.” 

Dielette was disappointed in her expectation of soon 
Reaving the hospital ; the malady had taken so firm a 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


209 


hold upon her that the convalescence was very slow ; 
she remained at the hospital for more than two 
months. 

But this was fortunate for us ; during that time she 
gained the love of those who had charge of her — of the 
Sister, the doctor, and the house-surgeons, all of whom 
she won by her pretty ways. They had heard our 
story — that is to say, as much of it as we had thought 
advisable to tell ; and the interest she inspired was re- 
flected on me. When I went to the hospital on Sun- 
days and Thursdays I was received by every one as if 
I were a friend. 

At last her certiflcate of discharge was signed, and on 
giving it to her the doctor and the Sister told her that 
they had arranged so that we should not be obliged to 
go on foot to Port Dieu. They had found the driver 
of a wagon for conveying nurses to and from their 
homes, who agreed to take us in his vehicle as far as 
Vire. At Yire this man would engage places for us in 
the public conveyance as far as Port Dieu. A col- 
lection had been taken up in the St. Charles ward 
amounting to twenty-flve francs ; this was more than 
sufficient to cover our expenses. I, on my side, hav- 
ing in mind our journey, which I did not know was 
to be made so easy for us, had saved during these two 
months six or eight sous a day, which made a sum to- 
tal of twenty-two francs. 

What a contrast between our arrival in Paris two 
months before and our departure from it now ! The 
good Madame Berceau took us herself to the wagon, 
and loaded us down with provisions of all sorts. 

A nurses’ wagon, with a wooden bench on each side 

14 


210 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


and a heap of straw on the floor, is not a very luxuri- 
ous conveyance, but we found it delightful. 

It was now the end of January ; the weather was 
mild, and our journey was a pleasant one. We were 
not very hard to please, and we got on very well with 
the nurses, who were returning to their homes with 
their charges. When the little ones cried too much, or 
when they were being dressed, we got out and walked 
for a while. 

At Vire the driver put us in the diligence, which 
set us down within a league of Port Dieu. It was a 
Sunday ; it was just seven months since I had left the 
village. 

We walked a few hundred paces without exchang- 
ing a word, for we were both preoccupied. Dielette 
was the flrst to break this embarrassing silence. 

“ Don’t walk so fast,” she said ; “ I want to speak to 
you.” 

The ice was broken. 

“ I, too, wish to speak to you,” I said, in my turn. 

See, here is a letter that you are to give to mamma 
when you arrive at the house.” 

Why a letter ?” she said, gently. Why do you 
not come with me ? Why do you not take me your- 
self to your mother ? How do you know that she will 
want to have me? If she sends me away what is to 
become of me ?” 

Don’t say that ; you don’t know mamma.” 

“Tes, I know her very well ; but how do you know 
that she will pardon me for not having brought you 
with me? Will she believe that if I had tried hard 
enough to keep you, you would have gone away? 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


211 


What! You are here, and you won’t go to see her? 
That is not natural.” 

That is precisely what I have explained to her in 
my letter. I have told her that if I go away without 
seeing her it is because I know very well that if I were 
to see her I should not go away at all, and if I did not 
go away I should have to return to my uncle. I am 
bound to him, and my uncle is not the man to give up 
his rights.” 

Perhaps your mamma wpuld be able to find some 
means of keeping you with her.” • 

“ If mamma resisted my uncle, she would have to 
suffer for me ; while if I am once on board he can do 
nothing against me, as an enrolled seaman belongs to 
the Government, and the Government is more powerful 
than my uncle. I have considered the whole matter 
well, you may be certain.” 

I don’t know how that may be ; I know nothing 
about all those things you speak of, but I am con- 
vinced that what you are doing is wrong.” 

I was not suflSciently easy in my conscience to be 
able to hear, without getting angry, this word which 
had so often come into my thoughts. 

“Wrong?” I repeated. 

“ Yes, it is wrong ; and if your mamma blames you, 
if she says that you do not love her, I shall not be able 
to take your part, for I shall think as she does.” 

I walked along beside Dielette for a few moments 
in silence ; I was moved by her words ; my resolution 
was shaken ; a little more and I should have yielded, 
but I hardened myself. 

“ Have I ever been unkind to you ?” I asked. 


212 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


No, never.’’ 

“ Do you think I could treat any one badly 

She looked at me in silence. 

‘^Answer me.” 

‘^No.” 

Do you think I do not love mamma ? Do you 
think I wish to make her suffer ?” 

She thought she had vanquished me, but she saw 
that I was defending myself ; she did not answer. I 
continued : 

’ “ Well, then, if you have the slightest feeling of 
gratitude towards me, and if you think I am not cruel, 
do not speak in that way again ; you might succeed, 
perhaps, in persuading me to remain, and that would 
be a misfortune for us all.” 

She did not utter a single word more, and we walked 
on together, both sorrowful, both troubled. 

I had taken the path across the moor, where I was 
almost certain we should meet no one ; in this way we 
reached the ditch which separated our yard from the 
moor. I had heard the ringing of the bells proclaiming 
that mass was over ; my mother must be already at home. 

‘^That is the house,” I said to Dielette, pointing 
over the reeds to the house where I had been the ob- 
ject of so much love. 

She was aware of my emotion from the trembling of 
my voice. 

“ Eomain !” she cried. 

But I pretended not to comprehend all the supplica- 
tion expressed by this single word. 

Go down there,” I said, hastily, and give the let- 
ter to mamma when she opens the door, and say to 


ROMAIC KALBRIS. 


213 


her, ^Here is a letter from your son.’ You will see 
when she reads it that she will not send you away. In 
six months I will return. I will write to you from 
Havre. Good-bye.” 

I was running away, but she clung to me. 

Don’t keep me,” I said, “ let me go ; jon see that 
you are making me cry.” 

She loosened her clasp. 

Don’t you want me to kiss her for you ?” she said. 

I had already turned to retrace my steps. I came 
back and, putting my arm around her neck, kissed her. 
I felt her tears wet upon my cheek. 

If I did not run away at once I should certainly not 
go at all. I released myself, and, without looking at 
her, began to run. 

At the end of the road I paused, however, and crept 
back to hide among the reeds. Dielette had crossed 
the yard and entered the house. 

She remained there for a long time. I could see 
nothing, I could hear nothing; I could scarcely breathe 
for anxiety. What if mamma were no longer there? 
What if, like Dielette’s mother, she were — 

Just as this sinister thought presented itself to my 
mind, Dielette appeared on the threshold, and, just be- 
hind her, my mother. 

She was alive ; Dielette was at her side, her hand in 
hers ; the eyes of both were red, as if they had been 
weeping. I jumped down from the ditch. Three 
hours later I was sitting under the awning of the dili- 
gence, and two days afterwards I had reached Havre, 
passing through Caen and Honfleur. I had six francs 
left in my purse. 


214 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


XIIL 

I HAD imagined I liad only to present myself on 
board a ship in order to be at once engaged. 

No sooner was I set down in the outer port than 
I began my promenade on the wharves to make my 
choice among the vessels there. In the King’s dock 
there were only four or five steamers ; these were not 
what I was in search of. In the La Barre dock were 
some large American ships unloading bales of cotton, 
which lay in mountains on the wharf; these were not 
what I was looking for, either. What I wanted was a 
French sailing vessel. 

In making the tour of Commerce dock I was filled 
with amazement; there were vessels there from all 
parts of the world — large vessels and small vessels, a 
forest of masts garlanded with pennants, streamers, and 
fiags. I thought it finer than Paris. 

There were ships which exhaled an odor of brown 
sugar that made my mouth water ; there were others 
smelling of pepper and cinnamon. Everywhere men 
were loading and unloading vessels. Custom-house 
officers watched the bags of coffee as they were rolled 
along the wharf, and listened to the singing of the 
sailors with a melancholy air. 

Among these ships was one which at once caught 
my fancy. It was painted white with a blue stripe ; 
it was a small three-master. On a board fastened to 
the shrouds were the words: ^^The Morning Star, 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


215 


Captain Frigard, in lading for Pernambuco and Baliia ; 
to sail immediately.” How could a voyage in a white 
and blue ship be other than delightful ? Are there to 
be found in all the geography two more enchanting 
words than Pernambuco and Bahia ? 

I climbed on deck. The crew and several stevedores 
were busily engaged in loading the vessel; lowering 
large chests suspended from chains into the hold. At 
first no one paid any attention to me, but as I stood 
there for a long time without moving, not daring to 
interrupt a gentleman who was marking these chests 
one by one as they were carried past him, and who 
seemed to be the captain, I at last attracted notice. 

“ Get away with you !” this gentleman said to me. 

“I would like to speak to you, sir,” I answered. 

And I told him what I wanted — that is to say, that 
I desired to ship as a cabin-boy on board the Morn- 
ing Star. 

He did not even answer me, but pointed to the 
plank by which I had come aboard. 

“ But, sir — ” I began. 

He raised his hand threateningly ; I said no more, 
and left the vessel deeply humiliated. 

Would no one want me, then ? 

I was not in a situation to allow myself to be easily 
rebuffed, however. I walked a little farther ; doubt- 
less the Morning Star was too fine a vessel for me. 
This time I chose a black and grimy-looking brig lad- 
ing for Tampico, which was called the Conger. They 
simply told me they needed no one. In my third 
attempt, instead of addressing the captain, I spoke to 
one of the sailors ; when I told him what I wanted, he 


216 


KOMADT KALBEIS. 


shrugged his shoulders, and all I could get from him 
was that I was a droll little fellow. Finally the cap- 
tain of a schooner sailing for the coast of Africa, whose 
countenance was by no means calculated to inspire con- 
fidence, agreed to take me ; but when he learned that 
I had no father to sign my contract, that I was not 
enrolled in the navy, that I had no bag for my outfit, 
and, above all, that I had no outfit, he told me to leave 
the vessel more quickly than I had come aboard unless 
I wished to make the acquaintance of his boots. 

Matters were now assuming a serious aspect, and I 
was beginning to be uneasy. Should I find myself 
obliged to return to Port Dieu ? If I had had only 
my mother and Dielette to consider, this necessity 
would have been unmixed joy ; but my uncle and the 
contract which bound me to him — could I forget 
them ? I continued my search, then. 

In making the tour of the dock I found myself 
again in the outer port ; the tide was beginning to rise, 
and several little fishing-boats were already putting out 
to sea. I went to the pier to see the vessels entering 
and leaving the harbor. It was long since I had wit- 
nessed this spectacle, and the fiowing tide, the wide 
horizon, the boats from Caen, Eouen, and Honfieur, 
coming and going, the larger vessels getting under 
weigh for long voyages, with the adieux, the waving 
of handkerchiefs’ of the passengers, the cries of the 
sailors, the creaking of the pulleys and the rigging, 
the confusion of white sails in the roadstead, from the 
coast-line to the extreme verge of the horizon, all com- 
bined to make me forget my anxieties. 

I had been leaning on my elbows on the parapet for 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


217 


more than two hours when suddenly 1 felt myself pull- 
ed by the hair. I turned around in surprise, and found 
myself face to face with one of the musicians of Lapo- 
lade’s troupe — Hermann. 

“ Is Lapolade in Havre 

I asked this question with so terrified an air that 
Hermann delayed answering me for a minute or more, 
unable to control his laughter. At last he recovered 
himself suflSciently to tell me that he, too, had left La- 
polade to go to one of his brothers who lived in the 
Eepublic of Ecuador. As for Lapolade, I need have 
no further fear on his account ; he had inherited a con- 
siderable sum of money and had sold his menagerie, 
or, rather, the remains of the menagerie, for a fortnight 
after our flight Mouton — poor Mouton — had died of 
starvation and grief. After Dielette’s departure he 
became at once gloomy and ferocious. He obstinately 
refused all food. It seemed as if he had an appetite 
only for Lapolade, whom he attacked furiously the mo- 
ment he saw him. But as Lapolade could not make up 
his mind to save his lion’s life at the expense of his 
own, the unfortunate Mouton had finally died, a victim 
to his attachment and his fidelity to Dielette. 

Hermann asked me if I was at last a sailor. I told 
him of the diflSculties I had encountered in my efforts 
to find a ship. 

He had been long enough in the circus to have a mind 
fertile in expedients. 

If you wish,” he said, “ I will look for a place for 
you, as if you were my brother.” 

And the outfit ?” I asked. 

This was an insurmountable difficulty. Hermann 


218 


ROMAIN KALBRI8. 


was not mucli richer than I. His passage had been 
paid by his brother, in advance, as far as Guayaquil. 
Even if we should both put our resources together 
they would not be enough to cover so great an ex- 
pense. 

We were obliged to give up this idea. To console 
me he took me to dine with him, and after dinner he 
took me to the theatre, where one of his comrades, a 
musician in the orchestra, gave us two seats. The first 
piece was a comedy, called “ Open War,” in which one 
of the characters is brought on the stage in a box. 

There is your plan,” he said to me ; between the 
acts I will explain my idea to you.” 

His idea was to buy a large chest in which I should 
conceal myself. An hour before the sailing of the 
vessel he would carry the chest, locked and corded, on 
board. When we should be out of sight of laud he 
would open it, and the captain, in view of the impos- 
sibility of putting me ofi the ship, unless he threw me 
overboard, would be obliged to let me remain on the 
vessel ; once out at sea it would be my part to find 
employment. 

It was a wild idea, but there was an air of adventure 
about it which captivated me. 

On the following day we visited every second-hand 
shop in the city, and finally bought for ten francs a 
large chest encircled with iron bands, which suited me 
as exactly as if it had been made to order. Hermann 
took it to his lodgings — the house where I had dined 
with him — and pierced it with several holes, so that I 
might have air to breathe. I entered the chest; he 
closed the lid, and I remained in it for two hours with- 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


219 


out experiencing the slightest inconvenience. I could 
move my limbs freely, and turn over on my side or on 
my back whenever I wished to change my position. 

The vessel in which Hermann had taken passage 
was to sail on the following day at high -tide at two 
o’clock. I passed my time until then in looking at 
tlie vessel, which was called the Orinoco^ and in writ- 
ing a long letter to my mother to tell her that I was 
at last a sailor, and that I asked her pardon for acting 
against her will, but that I hoped it would be for the 
happiness of all of us. In this letter I enclosed one 
for Dielette. I had to tell her all the news I had 
learned from Hermann. I had to beg her also to be 
very good to mamma. 

Two hours before high-tide — that is to say, at noon 
— Hermann put me into the chest and, giving me a 
piece of bread, ^^Till to-morrow,” he said, laughing; 
“ if you grow very hungry you will have something 
to eat.” 

1 was to remain in this chest for twenty-four hours ; 
for we considered that if I were to be seen while we 
were near Havre I risked being put by the captain on 
board some fishing or pilot boat ; while once out at sea 
the danger of falling in with such a vessel was much 
less to be feared. For some days past a strong south 
wind had been blowing ; in twenty hours we should be 
beyond Cherbourg, in the open channel. 

We had fastened two leather straps on the inner 
side of the chest, through which I passed my arms, to 
avoid being tossed about with the movement of the 
vessel. Hermann secured both locks, and passed the 
cord several times around the chest, which he then 


220 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


lifted on his shoulder. He laughed so violently that 
I was shaken as if I had been on horseback. 

When he arrived on board the Orinoco this gayety 
was suddenly cut short. 

What have you there?” asked the captain. 

My trunk,” he answered. 

It is too late ; the hatches are closed.” 

It was precisely on the closing of the hatches that 
we had counted ; for if they had been open, the chest 
in which I was would have been lowered into the hold 
where other boxes would have been piled on top of it, 
and I must have remained in my imprisonment until 
we reached Guayaquil; while, if the hatches were 
closed, the chest would be deposited on the deck, or in 
Hermann’s cabin. 

But things did not settle themselves so easily ; for a 
long time the captain refused to receive the chest on 
board, and I thought I was going to be put ashore 
again. Finally, however, the chest was put down be- 
tween decks with other boxes that had come on board 
at the last moment. 

“It can be stowed away later on,” said one of the 
sailors. 

Later on it mattered little. I hoped to be only a 
short time in the chest. 

I soon heard the hawsers dropping into the water ; 
at the same instant the capstan was turned around, and 
above my head resounded the measured tread of the 
sailors hauling the vessel out of the dock. 

I was able to follow the working of the ship by the 
various sounds I heard inside my box as well as if I 
had witnessed it from the deck. 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


221 


From the rolling of vehicles and the confused 
sounds of voices I knew that we were in the basin. 
The vessel remained motionless for some minutes ; then 
I felt it drawn gently forward — the tug-boat was tak- 
ing it in tow ; a slight swaying of the vessel threw me 
backwards — we were in the outer port ; the swaying 
became more perceptible — we were between the piers ; 
the pulleys creaked, the sails were hoisted, the vessel 
leaned to one side, the tow-line dropped into the wa- 
ter, the helm groaned — we were standing out to sea. 

It was decided, then ; my life as a sailor had begun. 
The moment so ardently desired, which I had bought 
at the price of so many trials, and which I had thought 
was to be so full of joy, found me sad and anxious. 
It is true that the situation in which I was placed was 
little calculated to inspire gayety. 

Perhaps if I had been on deck taking part in the 
working of the vessel, seeing before me the open sea, 
behind me the land and the harbor, I might have 
thrown myself joyfully into the unknown. Impris- 
oned, as I was, within the four sides of a chest, I could 
not prevent myself from feeling something like terror. 

I was roused from my gloomy reflections by three 
or four taps on the lid of the box; but as they were 
not accompanied by any words I did not venture to 
respond, fearing that they might have been given by 
one of the sailors. The taps being repeated in such 
a manner as to convince me that they were made by 
Hermann, I knocked in my turn with my knife on the 
inside of the lid. 

This signal relieved my anxiety ; I had not been for- 
gotten, then. I should have to remain in this box only 


222 


liOMAlN KALBRIS. 


for a few hours more ; when I emerged from it I should 
find myself in the open sea with the world before me. 

A fresh breeze was blowing ; the ship, which pre- 
sented her side to the waves, rolled greatly. Accustom- 
ed from a child to accompany the fishermen on their 
expeditions, and to the motion of the boats lying at 
anchor, I had never been sea-sick. I had thought my- 
self entirely exempt from this malady. was disagree- 
ably surprised, then, to feel an uneasy sensation in my 
stomach. 

I thought at first that this sensation was caused by 
the lack of air, for, notwithstanding the holes which 
we had taken the precaution to pierce in the boards, 
the air made its way into the box with difficulty, and 
out of it with still greater difficulty, and the heat was 
oppressive. But my uneasiness increased ; the dizzi- 
ness, the undefinable sensation of giddiness which I 
experienced when the vessel pitched suddenly, left no 
room for doubt. This made me very uneasy, for I had 
known persons attacked by this stupid malady actually 
to bellow. What if I should do the same thing, and 
some sailor passing by. during one of these attacks 
should hear me ? 

I had often heard it said that the best remedy for 
sea-sickness was sleep ; as it was the only one at my 
disposal, I buried my head in my hands and tried with 
all my might to sleep ; for a long time my efforts were 
in vain. My bed was not a soft one ; if I had only 
had the forethought to furnish my prison with a few 
armfuls of straw. My stomach followed every move- 
ment of the vessel, rising and falling with it. At last, 
however, slumber stole over me. 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


223 


How long I slept I know not, for in my chest, which 
the light could not enter, I was in utter darkness, and 
unable to distinguish between day and night. From 
the silence that reigned on the vessel, however, I knew 
that it must be night. I could hear the regular tread 
of the sailors of the watch on deck, and at intervals 
the creaking of the helm. The rolling had increased ; 
the masts creaked, the wind whistled through the rig- 
ging, the sea dashed heavily against the sides of the 
vessel — all showing that a storm was rising. 

Whether it was that the night air had freshened the 
atmosphere in the box, or that 1 was now accustomed 
to the rolling, I no longer felt sea-sick, and I soon fell 
asleep again, lulled by the solemn music of the winds 
and waves, which took me back in thought to stormy 
nights passed in my little room at home. 

I was awakened by a terrific uproar, a creaking and 
straining of the vessel from stem to stern, followed im- 
mediately by a crash on deck, as if the masts and rig- 
ging had fallen together on the deck, and I could hear 
the cordage snap with a noise like the detonation of a 
gun, and the masts split asunder. 

“ Stop !” cried a voice in English. 

All hands on deck !” cried a voice in French. 

Above all the other sounds rose one — a loud hissing 
sound which I at once recognized ; it was the steam 
which was escaping. We must have collided with an 
English steamer, which had run into us and thrown 
our ship on her side, for I had been thrown violently 
against the side of the box. 

Before I had recovered from my terror the hissing 
of the steam ceased, and I could hear the timbers creak 


224 


KOMAIN KALBKIS. 


anew, and a loud commotion on deck ; almost at the 
same instant our vessel righted herself. Had the Eng- 
lish steamer sunk, or had she moved away ? 

I shouted with all the force of my lungs to attract 
the attention of some sailor, in the hope that he might 
came to release me ; and then I listened. I heard a 
confused murmur of voices and hurried footsteps run- 
ning hither and thither on the deck, the waves dash- 
ing against the sides of the vessel, and, rising above all 
this, the roaring of the wind, which was now blowing 
a hurricane. 

Were we sinking? Had Hermann abandoned me 
to my fate, shut up in this box? I cannot describe 
the horrible feeling of anguish that took possession of 
me at this thought. My heart seemed to stand still ; 
my hands were wet with perspiration, as if I had dip- 
ped them in water. Instinctively I tried to rise to 
my feet ; my head struck against the lid of the box. 
I knelt down and pushed upward with all my force ; 
the two locks were strong; the lid was jointed, and 
crossed with bands of oak ; it remained immovable. I 
sank down paralyzed with terror and anguish. 

After a few moments I began to shout again and to 
call to Hermann, but a loud noise arose on deck which 
prevented me from hearing my own voice ; they were 
cutting away the masts with hatchets. 

And still Hermann did not come to release me from 
my prison. What could have become of him ? 

While some of the sailors were cutting away the 
masts others worked at the pumps, and I could hear 
the regular tick-tack of the working-beam. 

We were sinking, then. I hurled myself desperately 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


225 


against the lid; it did not move, and I sank down 
crushed by the sense of my powerlessness, mad with 
rage and terror. 

Hermann ! Hermann !” I shouted. 

The same noises still sounded above my head — that 
is to say, on deck ; but all was silent in the quarter 
where I was imprisoned. My voice died away in the 
chest, or, if by chance a few sounds escaped, they min- 
gled with the wind and were carried away by it. 

Had Hermann, then, fallen overboard? Had he 
been washed away by a wave ? or, engrossed by 
thoughts of his own safety, had he forgotten me? 
Was 1 then doomed to be drowned shut up in this 
box? 

Would no one come to my help ? 

To face death, to meet it courageously, is possible 
even for a child. When one is free at least one can 
defend one’s self, and the struggle stimulates one’s 
courage; but shut within the four sides of a box, 
hardly able to move or to breathe, this fate seemed to 
me at once miserable and monstrous. 

I dashed myself with fury against the walls of my 
prison — they remained firm, they did not even bend. 
I tried to cry out again, but my parched throat refused 
to form a sound. I know not how a man would have 
borne himself in a situation like mine ; I was only a 
child, and I fainted. 

When I came to myself, after how long a time I 
know not, I had a strange sensation ; it seemed to me 
that I was dead, and at the bottom of the sea, tossed 
about by the currents ; but the noises on deck recalled 
me to reality. They were still at the pumps, and I 
16 


226 


ROMAIC KALBRIS. 


could hear the ominous gurgle of the water in the 
valves. The wind howled through the vessel, and the 
waves dashed heavily against her sides, making her 
quiver from stem to stern. She rolled so frightfully 
that I was dashed, now against the right, now against 
the left side of my box. I shouted again, stopping 
from time to time to listen ; I could hear nothing but 
the deafening din of the tempest. 

I was stifling, and I loosened my clothing to breathe 
more freely. When I was taking off my waistcoat my 
hand came in contact with my knife, which I had for- 
gotten ; it was a solid knife, such as is used by the peas- 
antry, with a horn handle and a strong, sharp blade. 

Since no one came to help me, I must help myself. 

I opened my knife and proceeded to attack one of 
the locks of the box ; not to take it off — I should only 
have broken my knife in the attempt — but to cut the 
wood around it. This wood was beech-wood, twenty 
or thirty years old, and was as hard as iron, and my 
knife cut into it with difliculty. 

I worked with such ardor that in a short time I was 
bathed in perspiration. The knife slipped in my grasp, 
and at every moment I was obliged to dry my hands. 

I made but little progress, for the rolling and pitch- 
ing of the vessel caused me to lose my hold continual- 
ly ; just as I was leaning, perhaps, with all my strength 
on my knife, I would be thrown against the opposite 
side of the chest. 

At last the lock began to move, and I counted upon a 
shock of the vessel to detach it completely. I attacked 
the second lock ; my knife was so hot that in wetting 
the point in my mouth I burned my tongue. 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


227 


The pumps had stopped working, but the commo- 
tion on deck had not ceased ; the footsteps were more 
hurried; the crew were evidently working energeti- 
cally. At what? I could not guess. Then came a 
hollow rolling, as if some heavy object, such as a large 
chest or a boat were being dragged along the deck. 
With what purpose? What was the meaning of all 
this ? 

But I had no time either for considering this ques- 
tion or for listening. I resumed my labor. 

My knife had lost its edge, and I found much great- 
er difficulty in cutting the wood around the second 
lock than I had found in cutting around the first. I 
put all my strength, all my energy into the work, but 
my arm had become numbed, my sides were sore from 
the constrained position which I had been obliged to 
maintain, and I was forced to rest for a while. 

Then I heard the whistling of the wind, the shock 
of the waves, the groaning of the timbers of the vessel. 

My labor had lasted certainly for more than half an 
hour. How much longer it seemed to me I cannot 
express. At last the second lock, too, was loosened. 

I knelt down, and, supporting myself on my hands, I 
pushed with all my might with my back against the 
lid of the box, in order to force it open. Both locks 
were forced off, but the lid remained closed. 

It was firmly secured at either end by a cord ; I had 
forgotten this. 

The next thing to be done was to cut this cord. At 
first I supposed that this would be an easy matter. I 
was mistaken, however, for the lid, although it opened 
slightly, remained within the rabbet, and I must re- 


228 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


move this rabbet before I should be able to reach the 
cord. This was an additional labor to be undertaken. 

I was not discouraged, however, and. I set about my 
task at once. Fortunately, I was cutting now with the 
grain of the wood. At last I reached the cords; I 
cut them. I was free ! 

I pushed the lid with force ; it opened slightly and 
then fell down again. I pushed it with greater force, 
but it opened no farther than before. What was the 
obstacle that prevented it from opening ? 

The anguish I felt was so intense that I sank down 
utterly prostrate on the bottom of the chest. 

But I had accomplished too much to be willing to 
give up now. The lid opened sufficiently to allow me 
to pass my hand through the opening. I passed my 
hand through the opening and felt carefully all around 
as far as I could reach, for it was now night, and I 
could see only a faint glimmer of light. 

In this way I at last discovered what the obstacle 
was with which I had to deal. It was an immense 
chest. Resting partly on another chest, partly on the 
one in which I was, it prevented the lid of the latter 
from working. I tried to push it off, but it was too 
heavy and did not move ; besides, in the position in 
which I was, I could neither put forth all my strength 
nor stretch out my arm to its full extent. To under- 
take to raise the lid, or even to move it was folly. 

All my labor, then, had ended in this. What was 
to be done now? I trembled with impatience and 
with anguish ; I felt the blood boil in my head as in 
a caldron. 

Perhaps it was the chest that had stifled my voice; 


EOMAUSr KALBKIS. 


229 


now that it was partly open, I might be able to make 
myself heard. 

I shouted desperately ; then I listened for an answer. 
There was a great commotion on deck, and I thought 
I heard something drop into the water. Since I could 
hear those on deck they must be able to hear me, too. 
I shouted again. When I listened now I no longer 
heard on deck the sound of rolling or the noise of foot- 
steps — nothing but the roaring of the wind — but, a 
thing which surprised me greatly, I fancied that shouts 
coming from the water reverberated against that side 
of the vessel against which my prison rested. 

They had not heard me evidently. I determined to 
take oflE the hinges of the lid. If I succeeded in doing 
this I need not raise it ; I need only push it aside in 
order to be free. 

I set myself to the work with more ardor than ever. 
This silence terrified me. Had the crew been swept 
away by the sea ? It was not unlikely, for the violence 
with which the vessel rolled and pitched, and the roaring 
of the wind told meTthat we were in the midst of a storm. 

The hinges were less firmly attached to the chest than 
the locks had been. I had no need to cut the wood ; 
I should have begun with them instead of with the 
locks, as they were only nailed. With the point of my 
knife I succeeded in loosening one of them, and then, 
by shaking the lid violently, I caused the nails which 
fastened the other to drop out. 

I pushed the lid aside ; it moved freely. I sprang 
out of my horrible prison. With what joy I found my- 
self at last free to move my limbs! To die in this 
chest would have been to die a dozen deaths ! 


230 


DOMAIN KALBKIS. 


This comparative success almost revived my hopes, 
I was not at the end of my difficulties yet, however. 
Guided by a streak of light, I made my way on tiptoe to 
the stairs. The hatch was closed ; fortunately it was not 
fastened ; I pushed it aside, and found myself on deck. 

It was scarcely daylight yet, but my eyes had grown 
accustomed to the darkness in my prison. I looked 
around the deck ; not a soul was to be seen. I looked 
towards the helm ; no one was there. The ship had 
been deserted by the crew. 

I jumped on the poop and looked out to sea. By the 
pale light of dawn I could perceive a black point on 
the water ; it was the long-boat. 

I shouted with all my might; but the boat was at too 
great a distance, and the tempest too fierce, for my fee- 
ble voice to make itself heard. 

I was alone in this ship, abandoned in mid-ocean, dis- 
abled and sinking, and yet such had been my anguish 
while shut up in my horrible prison that I now felt 
less terrified than before. 

On looking around me I saw that the Orinoco had 
been run into about mid- way between stem and stern. 
It was by a miracle that she had not been cut in two, 
but the English vessel had struck her obliquely. In 
the shock the main shrouds and the mizzen-top shrouds 
had been carried away, and the main-mast and the miz- 
zen-mast, being left without support on that side pre- 
cisely where her sails caught the wind, had snapped 
like matches. Of the masts there remained only the 
half of the foremast and the bowsprit ; of the sails 
only the jib and the foretop sail, which was torn in 
ribbons. 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


231 


Day was breaking; in the east tawny gleams flashed, 
swift and transitory as the lightning, along the edges 
of the clouds, and then vanished again into the sur- 
rounding darkness. The sea, far as the eye could 
reach, was a sheet of white foam, and under this livid 
light had a sinister aspect. The wind blew a hurri- 
cane, flattening down the waves. 

If the crew had abandoned the vessel it was because 
she was in danger ; it did not need much reflection to 
understand that. 

At the mercy of the winds and waves, without helm 
or sails, the vessel rolled frightfully, and the sea dashed 
over her hull so that it seemed as if it must swamp 
her. To keep my footing I was obliged to cling to the 
rigging, and I was already as wet as if I had fallen into 
the water. I examined the vessel to see what damage 
she had sustained, and I found that one of her sides 
had been stove in. Did this injury extend below the 
water-line ? It was impossible for me to ascertain. 
How much water was in the hold ? I could not learn 
this, either, for I could not make the pumps work, as 
they were too heavy for me. 

How long would the Orinoco^ in this condition, be 
able to resist the violence of the winds and waves ? 
This was the whole question. 

That the vessel must sink eventually I had not the 
slightest doubt ; but it was possible that before it sank 
some passing vessel might see her and rescue me. I 
did not lose all hope, then, and remembering that it was 
by making a desperate struggle that I had succeeded in 
escaping from my horrible prison, I resolved to con- 
tinue the struggle and not to abandon myself to my fate. 


232 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


I had sufficient knowledge of nautical affairs to be 
aware that if the vessel remained as she was now, with- 
out guidance, she would soon either go to pieces or 
founder in some heavy sea. What I must do, then, 
was to take the helm, and without steering towards 
any particular point, try to use the jib to hold the vessel 
agianst the force of the waves. 

But I had never steered any vessel larger than a 
boat, and 1 had scarcely taken hold of the wheel of 
this great ship when a violent blow of the waves 
against her side dashed it out of my grasp and sent 
it whirling around, throwing me to a distance of sev- 
eral feet. 

Fortunately, everything had been made ready on 
board to meet the storm. The tiller had been provided 
with its tackling, wdiich enabled me to steer without 
danger. As I had no direction in which to steer, since 
I did not know where I was, I simply set the tiller so 
as to keep the vessel before the wind. 

My chief hope was that I might fall in with some 
vessel. I stationed myself on the poop, therefore, where 
I could command a view of the whole horizon. 

I fancied that the violence of the wind was now be- 
ginning to abate. Day had dawned and the sky was 
less overcast. Through occasional breaks in the clouds 
could be caught glimpses of a pale blue ; and although 
the sea was still high, my hopes began to revive. So 
near land it was impossible but that some vessel should 
before long appear in sight. 

For fully three hours I kept my eyes fixed on the 
horizon, but without seeing any vessel. The wind 
abated perceptibly, the sea grew calmer — that is to say. 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


233 


the waves, instead of dashing confusedly against one 
another, rose and sank with a regular motion, which, 
allowing the vessel to rise and sink with them, greatly 
diminished the strain upon her. 

All at once I fancied I could perceive a white speck 
standing out against a large black cloud that hung low 
on the horizon. The speck grew larger — it was a ship ! 
It grew larger still ; she was sailing before the wind — 
that is to say, in the same direction as the OrinoGO, 

I rushed to the tiller to steer in her direction ; but 
while she had all her principal sails set, the Orinoco 
had only one small sail, which caught hardly any wind. 

For half an hour she continued to grow larger, until 
at last I could count her sails. Then I fancied that she 
began to diminish in size. I ran to the bell and rang 
it violently ; then, jumping on the netting, I watched 
for the result. She looked still smaller than before, 
and she was continuing on her course. She had 
neither seen nor heard me. 

This was a cruel disappointment. For an hour I 
continued to follow the receding vessel with my gaze ; 
she grew smaller and smaller ; then she was only a 
speck, then she disappeared altogether, and I was once 
more alone, surrounded by immensity. 

It was not enough that vessels should appear in 
sight ; they must also perceive the Orinoco. It would 
not do to wait passively for them to come to my assist- 
ance ; I must try to attract their attention towards me, 
so that they should know that I stood in need of it and 
render it to me. 

I took from the signal-chest the largest flag I could 
find, and, as the halliards were broken, I climbed up 


234 


KOMAIN KALBEIS. 


and fastened it to the top-mast. It was a difficult task, 
on account of the rolling of the vessel ; but, fortunately, 
I was accustomed to the sea and I descended safely, 
full of hope in the large flag floating on the breeze ; it 
would tell those who saw it that a ship was in distress. 

My chief fear, now that the sea was calm, was the 
leak ; but there was nothing to indicate that it had in- 
creased. The vessel did not seem to have sunk lower 
in the water. In order to be prepared for the occur- 
rence, however, should the Orinoco sink, I collected 
all the planks and boxes I could find and fastened 
them firmly together, so as to form a sort of raft. 

It was now drawing towards noon, and since the 
previous day I had eaten nothing. Hunger began to 
make itself felt. The cook’s store-room had been 
washed away when the vessel had lost her masts. I 
determined to go below and look for something to eat. 

But it was not without much hesitation that I took 
this resolution. What if the vessel should founder 
while I was between decks ? Hunger, however, proved 
stronger than fear. 

I went below. I had scarcely taken two steps when 
I heard a growling, and I drew back terrified as a dog 
dashed past me. It was the captain’s dog, which had 
been forgotten on the vessel. He reached the bridge 
before me. Arrived there, he turned around and gave 
me a long and suspicious look. Doubtless his exami- 
nation satisfied him, for he soon approached me and 
rubbed his nose against my out-stretched hand. We at 
once became friends. He kept beside me ; like me he 
was hungry. 

I found everything I could desire — bread, cold meat. 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


235 


and wine. I .seized what was nearest at hand and hur- 
ried on deck again. 

I was within a few steps of death, yet I ate with a 
good appetite. The dog, seated before me, snatched 
the scraps as I threw them to him. We already had a 
bond between us. I no longer felt myself alone. The 
repast finished he seated himself at my feet, watching 
me with so friendly a look that I could not help em- 
bracing him. 

In passing through the captain’s cabin I had seen a 
pair of pistols lying on the table ; I went below again 
for them; if I caught sight of a vessel they might 
serve, perhaps, to attract its attention. 

The day passed in this way without a single sail com- 
ing in sight. The sea was comparatively smooth, and 
the wind was scarcely perceptible. The Orinoco still 
behaved well; the leak must have stopped. It was 
without any excessive terror that I saw night approach. 
I thought that we could not be very far from shore ; 
perhaps in the darkness I might see the lantern of 
some light-house ; if so, I had only to steer for it and I 
was saved. 

It grew completely dark, but my hope was not real- 
ized. One by one the stars appeared in the sky, but 
no light-house was to be seen. 

At the same time that I had taken the pistols I took, 
also, from the cabin, a bundle of clothes. I made a 
comfortable bed with these, on which I stretched my- 
self, resolving, however, to keep awake all night, and 
not to take my eyes from the horizon. 

For a long time I remained thus, my eyes searching 
into the darkness, which they tried in vain to pierce. 


236 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


Turk, as I called the dog, had stretched himself be- 
side me and fallen asleep. The wind ceased, and the 
vessel rose and fell with the waves with a regular mo- 
tion in which there was nothing disquieting. At about 
ten or eleven o’clock the moon rose, illumining a calm, 
gentle-swelling sea that reflected back her light. Grad- 
ually the calm around communicated itself to me ; the 
snoring of the dog made me grow drowsy, and, notwith- 
standing all my efforts to the contrary, I fell asleep. 

But, notwithstanding the calmness of the sea, the 
storm was not yet past ; towards morning I was awak- 
ened by a cold wind blowing over me. Clouds were 
scudding along the horizon, and the sea was growing 
rough. 

The wind rose rapidly. I went to consult the com- 
pass ; it pointed to the north-west. I put the ship be- 
fore the wind, for as I did not know where I was I 
thought this the best course to take to reach the Nor- 
man or Breton coast. 

In less than an hour the sea was as rough as it had been 
on the previous day, and once more began to wash over 
the deck of the Orinoco^ so that the vessel, no longer 
rising and falling with the waves, was swept by them, 
at times, from stem to stern. 

Swaying with the force of the wind the fore-mast, 
already shaken, now began to crack with an ominous 
sound ; the shrouds and the cordage had begun to give 
way, and I feared at every new gust to see them fall. 
If that should happen, all was over ; the Orinoco would 
founder. 

While I was anxiously watching the mast I thought 
I perceived ahead a dark line receding into the distance. 


ROMAIN KALBBIS. 


237 


N’ot withstanding the danger, I rushed to the shrouds. 
It was land ! 

I ran to the helm and steered straight for this line ; 
my limbs trembled, and — curious effect of joy — my eyes 
filled with tears. Saved ! Was I indeed saved ? 

The line soon became clearly visible. Would the 
Orinoco be able to reach it? Would the mast stand ? 

I spent an hour of anguish at the helm, for the vio- 
lence of the wind increased continually, and the mast 
shook and creaked in a way that made my heart sink. 
Turk, seated before me, did not remove his eyes from 
me. It seemed as if he wished to read my thoughts in 
my face. 

The coast towards which the ship was running was 
low ; at a short distance from the shore the ground be- 
came undulating. Neither village nor harbor was to 
be seen. 

My hope, as you may imagine, was not to bring the 
ship into harbor, even had a harbor been in sight ; that 
would be a task beyond my strength, and even, I be- 
lieve, beyond the strength of an experienced seaman, 
with a vessel in the condition of the Orinoco, All I 
wanted was to run her aground and swim to shore. 

But would it be possible to reach the coast ? Might 
there not be submarine rocks in the way which would 
prevent the vessel’s approach ? 

In this terrible uncertainty I took the raft I had 
made on the previous day to pieces, and placed at hand 
the boxes and planks which had composed it, so as to 
have some one of them within reach in case the vessel 
should founder. I divested myself of all my clothing, 
with the exception of my trousers, and waited. 


238 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


The coast was now distinctly visible, and I could see 
the waves break in a long line of foam against the 
shore. It was low tide. 

In a quarter of an hour more, in ten minutes, in five, 
perhaps, my fate would be decided. Oh, mamma ! oh, 
Dielette ! 

I was beginning to give way to the emotion caused 
by this thought when the ship rose with a breaker. I 
heard a creaking sound, the tiller was torn from tlie 
helm, the bell rang, the mast trembled and fell for- 
w^ard, and I was thrown, face downward, on the deck. 
The Orinoco had grounded. 

I rose to my feet ; a second shock threw me down 
again. The vessel creaked in all her timbers, with a 
terrific strain came to a sudden stand-still, and then 
leaned over on her side. 

I tried to rise to my feet, to grasp some support, but 
I had not the time ; an oncoming wave swept over the 
vessel, and I felt myself dragged into the seething 
waters. 

When I rose to the surface I was fifteen or twenty 
yards away from the vessel. A few feet from me swam 
the dog, his eyes fixed on me with a despairing look ; 
I tried to encourage him with my voice. 

We were only about two hundred yards from the 
shore. In ordinary weather it would have been noth- 
ing for me to swim that distance, but with the waves 
rolling mountain high it was an appalling under- 
taking. 

Without losing heart, I swam slowly towards the 
shore, trying, above all, to rise with the waves; but in 
the foaming surf this was almost impossible, one wave 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


239 


succeeding another with such rapidity as scarcely to 
leave me time to draw a breath. 

There was no one to be seen on the beach, and it was 
evident I had no help to expect. Fortunately, both the 
wind and the waves impelled me towards the shore. 
As I sank with a wave I felt my foot touch ground ; 
this was the decisive moment. The next wave threw me 
against the beach as if I had been a bundle of sea-weed. 
I tried to dig my fingers into the sand, but the surf 
snatched me away again before I could succeed in my 
attempt. 

I saw that if I continued this struggle I should soon 
be drowned. I regained the open sea. I remembered 
a device which I had heard my father^ speak of : in a 
moment’s respite, between two waves, I grasped my 
knife and opened it ; I then swam towards the shore, 
and when the wave threw me on the beach I plunged 
my knife into the sand ; the surf drew me back, but I 
had now a point of support, and I could resist its force ; 
the wave receded, and I rose to my feet and ran for- 
ward ; the next wave covered me only to the knees ; I 
went a few steps farther and fell upon the sand. 

I was saved, but so utterly exhausted that I fainted. 

My friend Turk it was that restored me to conscious- 
ness, licking my face. His eyes were shining, and he 
looked at me with a glance that seemed to say, ‘‘Be 
satisfied; we are safely out of our peril.” I sat up- 
right, and the next moment I saw a coast-guard and 
some peasants running towards me along the sandy 
beach. 


240 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


XIV. 

It was to the east of Cape Levi, at a point some four 
or five leagues distant from Cherbourg, that the Ori- 
noco had stranded. 

The peasants who had come to my assistance took 
me to Fermanville, the nearest village, and put me to 
bed in the house of the cure. 

I had been so shaken by my emotions and by fatigue 
that I slept for more than twenty hours without wak- 
ening. I believe that Turk and I could have slept for 
a hundred years, like the Sleeping Beauty in the wood, 
if the commissary of marine and the insurance agents 
had not come to disturb us. 

I was obliged to appear before them, and give an 
account of all that had taken place from the time of 
the sailing of the Orinoco from Havre up to the mo- 
ment when she had stranded ; I was obliged, too, to ex- 
plain how I had come to be shut up in the chest ; it 
was not without some hesitation that I resolved to do 
this. But it was necessary to avow the truth, however 
improbable it might seem, or whatever might be the 
result of my doing so. 

The result was that I was sent to Havre to the own- 
er of the Orinoco. Three days after my examination 
I was put on board the Humming Bird at Cherbourg, 
and reached Havre the same evening. 

My history was already known ; the newspapers had 
published it, and I was almost a hero, or, at least, an 


ROMAIN KALBRI8. 


241 


object of curiosity. A crowd had gathered on the 
wharf, and when I appeared with Turk at the head of 
the ladder of the Humming Bird they pointed to us, 
exclaiming : 

‘‘ There they are ! There they are !” 

I learned at Havre that the crew of the Orinoco had 
not perished*; they had been picked up at sea by an 
English vessel, and the Southampton boat had brought 
them back to France. As for poor Hermann, he had 
been precipitated into the sea at the time of the col- 
lision, and, whether it was that he did not know how to 
swim, or that he had been wounded or killed by that 
part of the mast which had carried him overboard, he 
had never reappeared. This explained why he had not 
come to release me from the chest. 

My statement, it seems, was a damaging testimony 
against the captain. The insurers affirmed that if he 
had not abandoned his vessel he could have saved her. 
Since a child had been able to bring her to the shore 
the crew could assuredly have brought her into port. 
This point became the subject of much discussion, and 
there was nothing else talked of in Havre ; they plied 
me with questions on all sides. 

They were playing just then at the theatre “ The 
Shipwreck of the Medusa^'^ and it occurred to the 
manager to have me appear in the piece, giving the 
first representation for my benefit. They were obliged 
to turn people away from the doors. I had been given 
the role — a silent one, be it understood — of a cabin-boy. 
When I came on the stage with Turk beside me, the 
actors were obliged to stop, so vociferous was the ap- 
plause. Every opera-glass was directed towards me. 

16 


242 


ROMAIN KALBEIS. 


I foolishly began to fancy myself really a person of 
importance. Turk might with as much reason have 
thought himself one. 

The manager’s expenses being deducted — and he 
must have allowed liberally for them — this representa- 
tion brought me two hundred francs ; the piece was 
played eight times more, and for each representation 
he gave me five francs ; this amounted in all to two 
hundred and forty francs — for me a fortune. 

I resolved to spend the greater part of the money in 
buying an outfit, for my passion for the sea and my ter- 
ror of my uncle had survived everything. When I had 
found myself alone on the Orinoco^ tossed about by the 
winds and waves, when I had been thrown on the beach 
— that is to say, almost on certain death — I had, I con- 
fess, made some serious refiections, and the lot of those 
who spend their lives quietly under the shelter of a 
roof seemed to me preferable to a sailor’s lot. But 
once set upon my feet, these refiections had been like 
the water that had drenched my garments ; they had 
vanished before the first rays of the sun, and when I 
reached Havre my only thought was to find a ship 
where I should be taken as a cabin-boy. The owner 
of the Orinoco had given me a place on another of his 
vessels called the Amazon^ and this money came just 
in time to buy the necessary articles for my outfit. 

When I met poor Hermann he had taken me, as 
may be remembered, to his lodging. This lodging was 
a small dark room at the end of a yard on the Quai 
des Casernes. I went there now. The landlady was 
willing to rent this room to me, but she told me that 
she could not board me, as she was ill. This did not 


ROMAESr KALBRI8. 


243 


matter, however, as the question of food was with me 
one of secondary importance — of no importance at all, 
in fact, provided I could be sure of a piece of bread. 

This landlady was an excellent woman ; although she 
was scarcely able to drag herself about, she lavished at- 
tentions and kindnesses upon me which reminded me 
of home. 

She was a widow, and was still young, although she 
had a son two years older than I, who was then at sea. 
He had sailed, eight months before, on a voyage to the 
Indies, and the arrival of his ship, the Neustvia^ was 
expected from one moment to another. 

Between her and my mother there were other re- 
semblances than these accidential ones in their circum- 
stances. Like my mother, she, too, detested the sea. 
Her husband had died away from her, in Saint Do- 
mingo, of yellow fever, and it was a constant source of 
anguish to her that her son had gone to sea. Her only 
consolation lay in the hope that his first voyage, which 
had been attended with many hardships, might disgust 
him with the profession, and that he would come back 
disposed to remain on land. 

With what impatience she awaited him ! Every time 
I returned from the pier, where I spent the greater part 
of every day, she would ask me what was the state of 
the weather, what quarter the wind blew from, and if 
there were many vessels in the harbor. The voyage 
from the Indies is very long, hazardous, and uncertain, 
and the Neustria might arrive to-day, to-morrow, in a 
fortnight, or a month with equal probability. 

I had been with her a little more than a week when 
her disease assumed an alarming character. I heard 


244 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


the neighbors, who came to inquire for her health or 
to look after her, say that she was dangerously ill, and 
that the doctor entertained no hope of her recovery. 
And, indeed, she was growing weaker every day ; she 
was very pale, she had almost lost her voice, and when- 
ever I went into her room to tell her what kind of 
weather there was at sea I felt, when I looked at her 
as she lay in bed, something resembling fear. 

To the storms which had caused the wreck of the 
Orinoco had succeeded a period of fine weather. The 
sea was now as smooth as in the mildest days of sum- 
mer, and there even brooded over it a dead calm, which 
is not usual at this season of the year. 

This calm was her despair, and every time I entered 
her room to repeat what I had told her the day before. 

There is no wind, only a little breeze from the east,” 
she would shake her head gently, saying : 

“ God is hard upon me ; I shall die without embrac- 
ing him.” 

Then the neighbors or friends who were in her room 
would scold Ber for talking in this way about dying, 
and try to cheer her, telling her all those falsehoods 
with which people try to cheer the very sick. But 
they did not succeed in deceiving her, and she always 
answered, “I know well that I shall never see him 
again.” 

And her eyes would fill with tears, making me feel 
like crying with her. I was not aware of the precise 
nature of her malady, but from what I heard I knew it 
to be incurable, and I never ventured to enter her room 
without first asking how she was. 

One morning — it was a Tuesday — I had been to see 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


245 


the vessels coming into port, and I was on my way 
back to breakfast. As I passed the house of the neigh- 
bor I was in the habit of interrogating about the health 
of my landlady, she made a sign to me to enter. 

“ The doctor has come,” she said. 

“ Well?” I asked. 

“ He says she will not live through the day.” 

I did not dare to go up -stairs; at last I summoned 
courage and went, taking off my shoes to avoid making 
a noise. But when I reached her door she recognized 
my step. 

Eomain !” she said, in a faint voice. 

I went in. One of her sisters, who now never left her, 
was with her ; she made a sign to me to sit down, but 
the sick woman called me to her bedside. She looked 
at me without speaking, but I knew what she meant. 

“ The weather is still the same,” I said. 

“ Ho wind ?” 

^‘Ho.” 

“ What vessels ?” 

^^Fishing-smacks, the ships from the Seine, and the 
steamer from Lisbon.” 

I had scarcely ended when the door was pushed 
quickly open, and her sister’s husband, who was a la- 
borer on the dock, entered. He seemed agitated. 

“ The Lisbon steamer has arrived,” he said. 

“ Yes ; Eomain has just told us so.” 

She said this apathetically, but at the same moment 
her eyes encountered those of her brother-in-law ; she 
saw that he had something of importance to tell. 

“ My God !” she cried. 

“ Well, yes,” he said, ‘‘there is something new ; the 


246 


EOMAIN KALBEIS. 


Neustria has been spoken off the island of Sein ; all on 
board were well.” 

She was lying in bed, so pale and weak that one 
might almost have thought her dead; she raised her- 
self on her arm. 

My God ! my God !” she said, and her dull eyes 
brightened and her checks flushed. 

She asked him how long it would take the Neustria 
to come from the island of Sein to Havre. This was a 
difficult question to answer — a couple of days, if the 
wind were favorable ; six or eight days, if it were con- 
trary. The Lisbon steamer had taken thirty hours, the 
Neust/ria*m\^i arrive on the following day. 

She sent for the doctor. 

“ I must live until then,” she said. “ God will not 
let me die before embracing him.” 

Her strength, her mental activity, her energy re- 
turned to her. When the physician saw her the 
change that had taken place appeared to him almost 
miraculous. 

The house was a poor one ; the room in which the 
sick woman lay served at once as kitchen and bed- 
room ; after being used for a fortnight as a sick-room, 
it was not strange that it should be in disorder, littered 
with a hundred articles — glasses, cups, phials, all cov- 
ered with dust. The sick woman, up to this time, had 
had no regular nurse to take care of her ; she had had 
to depend upon her friends, the neighbors, and her 
sister, who, after a short stay, were obliged to return 
home to attend to their houses or their children. 

She begged us to clean the room a little, and put it 
in order, and also to open the window ; and as her sis- 


EOMAIN KALBRIS. 


247 


ter refused to do this, fearing the air might hurt her, 
she insisted, saying : 

“ It is not for myself ; but I don’t want it to smell 
of sickness when he comes.” 

When would he come ? The weather remained un- 
changed ; there was still the same dead calm, not the 
faintest breeze to fill the sails of the Neustria, 

In commercial ports it is customary to signal the ap- 
proach of vessels as soon as they are in sight; vessels 
coming to Havre are thus signalled from Pointe de la 
Heve, and the announcement, when it is received, is at 
once posted up. She asked me if I would do her the 
favor to go read the list of these notices. As may be 
imagined, I willingly complied with her request, and I 
went every hour from the Quai des Casernes to the 
Rue d’Orleans, where the ofiice of the Board of Un- 
derwriters, who received these signals, was then situated. 

But owing to the calm that prevailed no vessels had 
been sighted ; they were all detained at the entrance to 
the Channel. 

She did not lose heart, however, and when night came 
she caused her bed to be rolled over to the windo Wj^ so 
that she might have constantly in view a large weather- 
cock which was on the roof of the opposite house, for 
she felt sure, she said, that the wind was going to 
change soon. In other circumstances this would have 
made us laugh, for, against the background of the blue 
sky lighted by the full moon, we saw the weathercock 
stand out blackly, motionless, as if it had been soldered 
to its pivot. 

Her sister, who had stayed to sit up with her, sent me 
to bed. During the night I was awakened by a noise 


248 


ROMAIJSr KALBKIS. 


which I had never heard before since I had occupied 
my room — a sort of creaking. I rose to see what it 
was ; it was the weathercock turning on its iron rod ; 
the wind had changed ; I left the house and went to 
the pier. The sea was beginning to grow rough, the 
wind blew fresh from the north; a coast-guard, to 
whom I spoke, told me that it would increase and 
would probably change to a west wind. 

I returned to the house to take back this good news, 
for a west wind meant the arrival of the Neustria in 
Havre during the day, or, at the latest, at the turn of 
of the tide. 

You see,” she said, ‘‘ that I was right ; I knew well 
that the wind would change. Ah, God is good 1” 

Her sister told me that she had not slept all night ; 
that she had remained motionless, her eyes fixed on the 
weathercock, repeating continually the same question. 
At what o’clock does the tide come in ?” 

She asked for some wine ; the physician had said that 
they might give her whatever she wanted ; she took 
only a mouthfurof it, for she was very weak, and her 
breathing was loud and hard. 

“ That will keep me up until then,” she said. 

Then her eyes turned towards the weathercock, and 
for the moment she said no more. But from time to 
time she murmured : 

“Poor Jean ! poor Jean!” 

Jean was the name of her son. 

At daybreak she called me to her bedside. 

“Go to the butcher’s,” she said, “and buy three 
pounds of meat for the soup — get the best ; then buy 
a head of cabbage.” 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


249 


Cabbage would hurt you,’’ said her sister. 

“It is for Jean; he is fond of cabbage, and it is a 
long timq since he has eaten any ; here is the money.” 

And she drew with difficulty from under her pillow 
a five-franc piece. 

The doctor came in the morning; he said that he 
had never seen such a fight against death ; that it was 
only hope and the force of her will that kept her alive ; 
but now that she had lived so long, it was probable 
that she would hold out till evening — till the ebbing of 
the tide. 

When the hour came for opening the office I ran to 
theEue d’Orleans. Vessels were beginning to come in 
sight, but ^OiNeustria was not among those announced. 
From eight in the morning until three in the afternoon 
I made twenty journeys to the Eue d’Orleans. At 
last, at three o’clock, I read the notice : “ The Neu- 
stria^ from Calcutta.” 

It was high time to take back this good news, for 
the sick woman was gradually sinking ; the disappoint- 
ment of not seeing her son arrive with the morning 
tide had given her a fatal blow. On hearing that the 
Neustria had been signalled she revived. 

“ At what o’clock does the tide come in ?” she asked. 

“ At six.” 

“ I know I shall live until then ; give me a little wine.” 

I went to the pier. In the roadstead more than 
twenty large vessels were tacking about, waiting for 
the tide to turn. At four o’clock those which did not 
draw much water began to enter, but the Neustria was 
of heavy tonnage ; she did not enter the channel until 
nearly five o’clock. 


250 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


I ran to the house. I had no need to speak. 

“ She is in the harbor she said. 

She is coming in,” I answered. 

A quarter of an hour later the bannister shook as if 
it were being torn away; it was her son. She had 
strength left to raise herself and clasp him in her arms. 

She died at eleven o’clock that evening, at the going 
out of the tide, as the doctor had predicted. 

This death, this love of a mother for her son, this 
struggle against dissolution, this despair, produced in 
my mind and in my heart an effect which neither Die- 
lette’s entreaties nor the shipwreck of the Orinoco had 
been able to accomplish. 

My mother, too, might die while I was far away from 
her ; for the first time I saw — I felt — this. 

I did not sleep all night — this thought crushed me. 
The Amazon was to sail in a fortnight, the boat for 
Honfieur was to sail at five in the morning. The love 
of adventure and the fear of my uncle impelled me to 
go to sea ; the thought of my mother drew me back 
to Port Dieu. After all, my uncle would not eat me. 
I had been able to defend myself successfully against 
hunger, against cold, against the tempest ; with courage 
I might be able to defend myself, too, against my uncle. 
If my mother objected to my being a sailor it was her 
right to do so. Had I the right, on the other hand, to 
run away without her consent? Would she not re- 
ceive me badly if I returned ? And if I did not re- 
turn, who would take care of her when she could no 
longer work ? 

At four o’clock I rose and made up my bundle ; at 
half -past four I was on board the Honfieur boat; at 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


251 


five I left Havre, and thirty -six hours later, at six 
o’clock in the evening, as the sun was setting, I saw the 
first houses of Port Dieu. 

I had taken the path across the moor — that is to say, 
the same road which I had taken with Dielette ; but 
the season had advanced since then; it was no longer 
the same road. The grass was green, the reeds were 
in flower, and in the moss of the ditches violets were 
beginning to bloom. From the earth and from the 
plants arose, after the heat of the day, a fragrance 
that expanded the lungs and rejoiced the heart. 

Never had I felt so happy, so joyous! How my 
mother would embrace me 1 

Our hedge was before me ; I jumped across the ditch 
which separated it from the moor. Twenty paces off 
was Dielette, taking down some handkerchiefs from a 
line. 

“ Dielette 1” I cried. 

She turned towards the side from which the sound 
proceeded, but she did not see me, for I was hidden be- 
hind the hedge. 

I then saw, for the first time, that her dress was 
black ; she was in deep mourning. . 

In mourning for whom ? 

A single word escaped me : Mamma 1” 

But before Dielette could answer me my mother ap- 
peared at the threshold of the house, and my agonized 
fear was dispelled. 

Behind her appeared at the same instant a tall old 
man with a white beard. It was Mr. De Bihorel. Mr. 
De Bihorel at my mother’s side 1 I cannot describe my 
sensations. I felt as if I were looking at two ghosts. 


252 


KOMAIN KALBRIS. 


Fortunately this lasted only for a moment. 

Well, Dielette, what is the matter?” asked Mr. De 
Bihorel. 

He spoke ! He was alive ! I was not mistaken ! I 
broke through the hedge and rushed through the reeds. 
What happiness ! 

When the first transports had calmed down a little 
I had to relate my adventures from the moment when 
I separated from Dielette. But I was in such haste 
to learn by what miracle it was that Mr. De Bihorel, 
whom I had thought dead, could be there before me 
alive and well, that I related my story in as few words 
as possible. 

Mr. De BihorePs story was very simple. While re- 
turning from the island of the Grimes, his boat had 
capsized in a squall ; he had mounted on the keel, and he 
had been picked up, in this position, by a three-master 
sailing from Havre to San Francisco. The captain of 
this ship, though he had the humanity to send a boat to 
his rescue, refused to put in at any port to set him on 
shore, and Mr. De Bihorel found himself, willing or 
unwilling, bound for California, a five or six months’ 
voyage, unless they should chance to fall in with some 
vessel that would take him back to France. This fort- 
unate chance did not present itself. When they were 
off Cape Horn he put a letter for us in the box which 
navigators have established at the island of Terra del 
Fuego, but this letter never reached France. He ar- 
rived safely at San Francisco, crossed the continent, 
traversing the prairies, and reached France only two 
months before. 

I did not become a sailor. 


KOMAIN KALBKIS. 


253 


My uncle, the East Indian, was dead ; it was for him 
Dielette and my mother were in mourning. He had 
left a large fortune which made each of his heirs rich. 

Mr. De Bihorel took me home with him to complete 
my education, while Dielette was sent to a boarding- 
school. Whether she profited by the instruction she 
there received, whether she has become a good wife 
and mother you shall judge when she comes in by-and- 
by with our two little ones, a boy and a girl, who love 
Mr. De Bihorel as if he were their grandfather. Every 
day they go to Pierre Gante to visit him. 

I did not become a sailor, but none the less have I 
retained my love for everything pertaining to the sea. 
Of the thirty vessels fitted out every year at Port Dieu 
for the Newfoundland fisheries six belong to me. 

My mother is still in Port Dieu and still lives in our 
house. I have had the cabin twice rebuilt already in 
order that nothing might be changed. The picture 
you see there represents our house; it is by Lucien 
Hardel, who has become our friend. Every year he 
comes to spend a couple of months with us, and in 
spite of all his efforts he cannot find a gendarme in 
the country to arrest him. 

Mr. De Bihorel is still living, and is now ninety-two 
years old. Age has not impaired either his health or 
his intelligence ; his tall form is bent, but his heart is 
still youthful, still kind. The trees he planted have 
grown, and the island, on the side which is sheltered 
from the wind, is like a grove. On the western side 
there are still black sheep, still cows and rabbits, de- 
scendants of the cows and rabbits that were there when 
I was a boy. 


254 


ROMAIC KALBRI8. 


The sea-gulls still circle around the rocks, and when 
he hears their shrill cries Saturday, still as healthy and 
vigorous as in the days when he used to give me my 
mouthful, never fails to say to me : 

‘^Komain, tsGou% couac^ couac. What does that 
mean 

And he laughs to split his sides ; then, if Mr. De Bi- 
horel, who, for the last two months has been a little 
hard of hearing, looks at us inquiringly, he takes off his 
woollen cap and, assuming a serious air, says : 

We must not laugh at the poor master; if you are 
a man, do not forget that it is to him you owe it.” 

And this is the truth. 

Without doubt the fortune of my uncle, the East In- 
dian, came very opportunely to me ; but it is none the 
less certain that if it had not been for Mr. De Bihorel, 
for his lessons, his example, for the care he bestowed 
upon my education, for his guidance, I should be little 
better to-day than a rich peasant, for it is not money 
that makes a man. 

If this truth has need of confirmation, my uncle 
Simon would be a living proof of it. 

The money left him by his brother, added to the 
fortune he already possessed, had given him a fever for 
gold. Being now too rich to trade upon the necessi- 
ties of the poor peasants, who no longer yielded suffi- 
cient profit to satisfy his cupidity, he launched into 
extensive speculations. But in this field he met men 
who were shrewder and more cunning than himself, 
and in a few years his partners had ruined him so 
utterly that, after all he possessed was sold to pay his 
creditors — his office, his house at Dol, his estate, which 


ROMAIN KALBRIS. 


255 




had cost him so much toil and anxiety — he still remained 
ten thousand francs in debt. 

Just at that time I completed my eighteenth year 
and was declared of age, which gave me the free dis- 
posal of the fortune I had inherited from my uncle. 
In accordance with the advice of my mother and of 
Mr. De Bihorel, I offered to go to my uncle Simon’s 
assistance. But he took my proposal very ill, and I 
was obliged, in satisfying the claims of his creditors, to 
act without his knowledge or consent. When he found 
that I had done so he came to us in a rage and made 
a terrible scene. We were fools and spend-thrifts, he 
said. 

He lives now on a pension which we allow him. 
Even to do this we are obliged to take a roundabout 
method. 

At first he agreed that he would accept a certain 
sum yearly. But we soon learned that instead of em- 
ploying this sum in supplying his wants he made use 
of the greater part of it to lend out at usury and to 
carry on his trade in bric-a-brac. We now pay this 
sum to some worthy people who give him board and 
lodging. But, notwithstanding this precaution, he still 
finds the means of depriving himself of the necessaries 
of life in order to have the pleasure of saving a few 
sous. 

When we reproach him for this he answers that our 
extravagance will one day ruin us, and that we will then 
be glad to have the money that his wise forethought 
has caused him to lay aside. 


THE END. 


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